


The Kirkwaller

by FallingT



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders being salty, Eluvians, I'm trying, Mage Underground, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Oh look, Other, Plus more - Freeform, Some Exposition, THE STORY HAS BEEN EDITED - NEW CONTENT AVAILABLE!, The Blight, approximation of Qunlat, begins before the arrival of Hawke, but not so much, canonical, follows the main events of Dragon Age 2, half of Kirkwall is made of blood mages, have some conspiracy theories, the Kirkwallers, the important questions, this is gonna get tricky, why is it always blood mages?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingT/pseuds/FallingT
Summary: Telin lands in Thedas -- in Kirkwall, specifically -- after an encounter with an abandoned Eluvian on her way home.With the mark of the "Kirkwallers" on her forearm, and visions of past and future events, but no real memory of the world she fell into, she tries to piece everything together to find a purpose to her presence in Thedas.One last question remains, though: why is everyone in Kirkwall either incredibly attractive or a blood mage?





	1. The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> The story is undergoing major corrections and plot changes!  
> Chapter One is completely different, while Chs 2 to 11 have been tweaked!  
> Chapters 12 to 21 will be checked and corrected accordingly in the near future!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!  
> This chapter has been entirely rewritten as of 19/11!   
> New content add!

The sun was starting to set by the time she reached the railway bridge, and she had barely made it halfway up to home; it was only five in the afternoon, but the turning of the season was now pretty evident. Even the temperatures had started to drop little by little, leaving a chilly wind in place of the warm late summer, as October melted into November.

The girl stopped by the roadside, turning her nose skywards as the music pumped in her ears; the sky was painted with the prettiest shades of pinks and oranges, providing a fantastic backdrop for the pines and villas that littered the way uphill.

Sometimes, even the dreary and basically forgotten suburbs where she lived, could look pretty under the right light. The area was the newest to be developed, but that meant basically nothing after almost seventy years, and now it lacked most of the commodities that the rest of town had: no supermarkets, no cafés, nothing…

The girl shrugged her thoughts off, adjusting the weight of her bag on her right shoulder. She was tired; after three years of comings and goings to and from the university, the journey had lost its appeal – if it ever had one to begin with. Two trains, one hour and a half each way, plus all the walking… of course she could have had it worse, but that didn’t mean she would stop hating the morning crowds of students and commuters.

As one song slowly faded to its end, and another one begun, she shook her head a sighed, picking her pace back up; she still had a bit of ground to cover, and she wanted to get home before it got too dark to be comfortable.

 

She reached the top of the hill with a satisfied smile on her lips, singing along to the latest hit from her favorite band, _Imagine Dragons_ , in her head. She waited on the edge of the sidewalk as a couple cars went by, tapping her foot to the music, then crossed the street; there were no zebra crossings nearby, but nobody really seemed to care anyway.

She was taking a shortcut through the back of the neighborhood, knowing that the gate on the other end of her apartments complex’s courtyard was still broken open; there was no sense in walking the whole way around to the usual entrance.

She walked briskly down the road, her tiredness catching up to her now that she was almost home, but she enjoyed the cool air brushing her flushed cheeks after the long way up from the station.

It had been fifteen years already, since they had moved from one side of town to the other, but still she wasn’t quite used to the amount of time and fatigue it took to go all the way up and down the hill.

She was almost halfway to the end of the road when a tall, looming object appeared in her peripheral  vision, catching her attention; it wasn’t unusual to find all kinds of junk laying on the side of the road –  especially because that was right where the garbage collection point was, but as she reached it, she could tell that was no ordinary waste.

It was something she had seen before, but would never have expected to see _in real life_.

Standing proud and tall, discarded as if it were scrap, was a mirror she knew intimately.

She stopped in front of it, looking it up and down in its intricate design; she had played countless of hours of all three _Dragon Age_ games, but the last thing she would have imagined to happen to her, was coming face to face with an Eluvian.

As she stared at her puzzled reflection in the glass, she dismissed the irrational part of her brain; it was a real mirror, so probably there was a really die-hard fan hiding somewhere that had either built their own exact replica, or had had enough money to custom order one at some point.

Because there was _no way_ , despite the hundreds of fan-fictions that she had read – and tried to write, that the Eluvian was _real_ in that sense.

The girl shrugged, but took her phone out of her jacket’s pocket regardless, ready to _at least_ snap a picture of the mirror before moving on; it would make for an interesting post on the net, if nothing else.

She took a couple steps back to fit the whole thing into frame, but as she went to tap in the icon, static started to run on the screen of her phone.

“What the- ” she muttered under her breath, frowning at the device as it freaked out on her.

When her eyes left the screen, she caught sight of something that freaked _her_ out in turn; the surface of the mirror was not reflecting anymore; instead the glass seemed to have turned liquid, shifting around like a pool of water.

For a second she entertained the idea that she was having a psychotic episode or something, even though she had no precedent of one whatsoever. Her eyes had always been faulty – she had been wearing glasses since elementary school, but _that_... that was no result of her poor vision.

The more she stood there watching, the more she felt the urge to reach out and touch the surface of the mirror, the same feeling some people get when watching lava… But that wasn’t lava, it was just glass, there was no way it could hurt, right?

Shrugging, she took a step forward, raising her arm with her hand outstretched.

The moment she touched the liquid glass, her fingers went deadly cold; but the most shocking thing was that they passed through the surface, exactly as if she had just dipped her hand in water.

It was a weird feeling, yet not an unpleasant one.

She took another step forward, and her arm sank way further in the mirror up to her elbow. The second her right forearm passed through, though, a blinding pain shot through her whole body. A pained moan left her lips, as her forearm felt literally on fire; it seemed that the fire was propagating from one specific point on her arm, spreading  outward.

Her first instinct was to remove her arm from the mirror to check on her burning tattoo, but she soon realized she was stuck.

Panic sized her, overriding her every other sense, as she tried – and failed – to pull away from the mirror.

“No no no no no no-“ it couldn’t be happening, _whatever_ \- was happening!

It was probably a dream, and she would wake up in a minute, frazzled but fine, and definitely _not_ trapped in a freaking Eluvian!

Suddenly, the pain stopped, and the watery glass of the mirror turned to mist, clearing the surface to show a foggy image of white buildings and dusty, orange, roads.

Even in the frantic state she still was in, she recognized what she was seeing from the top, and it did not help her calm down.

As she was staring down at the eagle view of Kirkwall, with half her arm stuck inside a mirror, she felt herself at a total loss.

What was going to happen, now?

As the thought entered her head, with the most clichéd of follow ups, a terrible wind picked up, tunneling in the one way street and crushing right into her back. It was as if the forces of the universe, though which one was quite unclear to her, wanted her to step inside of her own volition, and at her refusal to do so, had given her a gentle shove.

She lost her balance, and before she even knew it, she was falling, like Alice, through the Mirror.

 

And then she was free falling, staring down at the streets of the City of Chain.

Her mind was blank, her lungs were burning, and her eyes were crying.

 

All that remained of her, were her phone and bag, abandoned on the side of road, to testify that her existence had been real, even though it was no more.


	2. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!  
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

The world was white for a while when she finally regained consciousness.

The first thing she took notice of, was how hard and uncomfortable the ground felt under her back, then she realized she was sweating. Which was weird, because it was mid autumn and the temperatures had dropped significantly in the past weeks.

When she opened her eyes, clear blue sky was what greeted her; which, again, she found odd to find in the beginning of a rather cold November…

With no small amount of fatigue, she bid her sore body to move, leveraging on her abs to get seated. Her head was literally swimming for a couple minutes, her stomach joining on the ride, and she thought she was going to throw up everything she had eaten that day. Then her eyes came back into focus, and she finally took in where she was sitting; the quaint cul-de-sac ended on one side with the wall of what she supposed was a stone house, while the other opened on a bigger street.

Her surroundings told her nothing, and a feeling of helplessness started to build up inside her chest.

Where was she?

The last thing she remembered was walking home, and then… she saw a… _mirror_? Her memory was fogged at best, but whatever little she could pull up in her head did not help her make sense of her situation.

A small breeze flew in the alley, bringing along a waft of smells that almost made her gag. The unmistakable smell of piss and decaying waste filled her nose, and bile rose in her stomach to make its displeasure known. She tried to quiet her insides, hating the feeling of vomiting more than the sour odors coming up from the ground.  

Realization and disgust hit her hard, and she jumped up right, putting the less surface possible between her and whatever had touched the dirt she had been laying on.  

It was only when she proceeded to brush the dirt from her legs that her eyes fell on herself: she was still wearing her clothes, same as before – a denim shirt over her gray _‘Game of Thrones’_ Tee, jeans and black ankle boots - , but there was no trace of her coat nor her bag.

Feeling the heat in the air, she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing her forearms; a glimmer caught her attention, and at the sight of the tattoo, her mind seemed to suddenly recall everything that had happened up to that point, as if before it had been shielding itself from the weirdest of truths.  

She clearly saw the mirror before her eyes, her reflection staring back at her inside it, and then with shifting imagines swimming through it as if the glass had turned to water. She remembered touching it, her hand sinking right in, and then being unable to pull away… the glass had then shifted to mist, and she had fallen inside…

She frowned. 

When had she even got a tattoo, anyway?  

No, that was wrong, she remembered getting one as a birthday present from her friends...but was it that one? The design was familiar, and yet she could not tell why. What she was sure of, at least, was that no tattoo artist that she knew of could be able to give that shining, moving element...it was as if the gold was sifting through the lines like a river, filling up the spaces that should have been empty, showing off her skin to contrast the black of the ink.  

What the fucking fuck had even happened with that blasted mirror?!  

She could not, for the life of her, recollect any of her thoughts prior to her waking up in that filthy alley, and it was starting to freak her out.

Maybe she was just dreaming or it could even be that she was just hallucinating anyway; maybe she had had an accident on her way home, and this was her brain keeping her out of consciousness so she wouldn’t go into shock… 

Well, whatever side of the coin she looked at, it certainly didn't look pretty... 

 

She was ready for the panic to hit her like a rock, when her attention was switched to the approaching sound of steps and the conceited whispers of two or more voices. She tensed, waiting for them to pass, but the sounds only grew louder, and ceased only when the three people responsible stopped right at the mouth of the alleyway, efficiently cutting her way out.

The three shared a suspicious look before turning to her, who was still standing there, frozen, hoping that maybe she was invisible or that she could disappear into the wall behind her if she stayed still enough.

“Who are ‘ya? Yar not the usual” one of the three men – were they all men? – spoke in an accent that she barely managed to comprehend.

Of course, she did not reply.

What could she say, anyway?

“Maybe she stole da delivery!” the one on the left suggested, and his anger made the hair on her arms raise.

What the hell were they talking about? Delivery? And why would she have stolen it?

“Don’t be daft, you idiot! This one don’t look like a thief!” the third one spoke up, and she felt somewhat relieved that the misunderstanding was cleared.

Or was it?

“Uh, ‘s that why she here but the package’s not?” the middle one challenged, crossing his arms on the chest.

“Yeah, she stole it, she did!” thug number two insisted.

An argument sprang between the three, while she was left to her own devices, with confusion swirling in her head and anxiety building up in her chest.

Maybe if she tried to say something…

“Ah- I, uh, don’t know what you are talking about?” she said tentatively, speaking softly. For a moment she feared they had not heard her over their own ruckus, but then thug number three – the reasonable one – pointed at her with an open hand.

“See? She knows nuthing, I told ya” he said, and for a fraction of a second she felt herself smile.

 _Slap a fur on my shoulders and call me Jon Snow_ , she mused; but her mirth was sort lived.

“Ya, and now we go around believin’ every street urchin in Kirkwall! What do ya think I am, an idiot?” the middle one – thug number one – shot back, glaring at his companion.

The other one snorted at his side, murmuring something under his breath, but she was more preoccupied with her own mind going ablaze at the mention of a particular name.

 _Kirkwall_.

The word was etched in fire in her mind, and she had the horrible presentiment that she should know what it meant.  

 _‘Kirkwall, one of three city states in the Free Marches, the city of chains’_ a voice in the back of her head pointed out, and suddenly her tattoo started burning again.

 _I have no fucking idea what that means!_ She cried to herself, unable to reconcile the knowledge she seemed to have with no real, tangent, information.

Her left hand went to soothe the burning sensation on her right forearm, and a small sigh of relief left her lips.

The sound seemed to earn her the full attention of the marry band of thugs in front of her, who promptly gasped in horror at the sight of her shimmering golden tattoo.

“Andraste gian’ tits! Are ya seein’ that?!” thug number two said, almost chocking on the words of surprise leaving his mouth.

“Shut yer mouth, you fool! Do ya want the Guards to find us?” number one seethed through barred teeth, grabbing number two by the coat and shaking him a little. Panic seemed to dictate his actions, but she could not tell what had caused the sudden change in their demeanor.

“She’s one of the Kirkwallers, she is. Interesting. I think the boss would be delighted if we brought her back to him” number three suddenly chimed in, every trace of an accent gone, leaving behind only a cold and calculating voice.

The other two shared one long look before glancing back at number three, who was now…smiling?

Chills shot down her spine despite the heat in the air and the burning on her arm.

What was happening?!

“But we can’t drag her thru the streets now!” number one whispered hotly, sparing her a quick look.

“Oh I think she’ll come willingly, won’t you?” he chuckled, and it was only then that she noted that something had appeared in his hand.

 _Is that a motherfucking dagger??_ Her eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon before she truly took notice of their appearance as well.

Was that armor they were wearing? For real?

_Oh my god where the fuck am I?_

Panic rose victorious from her guts, clutching her body in an iron grip, and within a minute her mind was fogged, unable to process even the smallest of information; her breath came short, her lungs seemingly unable to contain any air at all, which caused her body to start shutting down.

 _Have you tried turning it off and on?_ A mocking part of her brain sing-songed as the heat in the air started to become unbearable.

Her vision began to swim, the three thugs dancing together in one single three-headed figure, and then all she saw was the ground coming closer and closer.

She hit the dirt with a deaf thud.

“Well, that saves us the trouble” she heard thug number two satisfied voice say before the darkness reclaimed her.

Maybe the next time she would wake up, none of this would have been real and she could just forget it ever happened.


	3. "The Kirkwallers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some timely rescuers appear!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!  
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

They say third time’s a charm, but what’s charming in waking up in a small, dirty, smelly, dark room with your wrists bound behind your back?

Nothing, that’s what.

After passing out in that alley, she had wished with all herself to wake up from that odd, panic inducing dream, but the first thing she had seen upon opening her eyes was just more dirt.

Now, after what probably had been hours, already, she was curled in a ball against the furthest wall from the door, head between her knees, breathing hard, as she faced the most brutal  panic attack she’d ever had since anxiety had started to become a constant problem in her life.

Her eyes were shut tight, fighting against the lights that swam behind her closed eyelids, her lungs were not collaborating, and her stomach was doing everything possible to convince her she had to heave even though she had had nothing to eat or drink since lunch.

God, how many hours – or days – had it been since lunch, anyway?

Her head was a mess, one coherent thought was followed by a hundred that made no sense and only served as fuel for her panic attack.

_How did I get here?_

_Is it a dream?_

_Will I ever be able to go back?_

_Are these men going to kill me?_

_Why should I know this place?_

_What is this place?_

_Why me?_

_Why now?_

_Why here?_

_What if I die?_

_What if I’m already dead?_

The questions, each with no answer, were piling atop of each other, and with each her sanity slipped through her fingers a bit more.

 

The merry band of thugs was sitting around a small table, drinking ale and playing Wicked Grace, idly waiting for their boss to show up. They had sent a missive to him, hoping to receive some sort of compensation for their stroke of luck in getting the girl, one of the infamous “Kirkwallers”, but had yet to hear anything from him. The afternoon was quickly devolving into the evening, the sun setting behind Sundermount, but not one other member of the mercenary band had yet knocked on the door. The more time passed, the more the three thugs drunk to pass the time, and the more boisterous they got in the attempt to ignore the now soft, now agonizing sounds that came from the adjacent room. The girl hadn’t spoken a word since they had brought her in, had even refused food and water, and seemed to be lost in her own head. They had tried to coax her into speaking, but neither dialogue nor threats had worked, not even fazing her. They were kind of at a loss with her; usually, any member of the Kirkwallers would have tried to free themselves in every way possible, but this girl just sat there, crying and breathing as if she were about to die, and had made no move to escape, not even once.

But still, it was not their decision to make what to do with her, so they waited.

And waited.

And  then waited some more.

The dark chill of night had well since covered the whole city-state, and the marry band of thugs had long since passed out on their little table, all filled with booze and food and fatigue.

No one noticed the two hooded figures that silently crept in the decrepit side room of an abandoned warehouse, not even when the door to the smallest of the two rooms squeaked on its old and rusty hinges.

So the marry band of thugs might not have noticed, but the sudden intrusion in the small room certainly got the attention of the girl, who immediately registered the cramped feeling. Her head shot up, meeting the two hooded figures, but it was too dark in there to make out anything but their hazy outlines.

“Who are you now?” she croaked, voice hoarse and broken by tears.

The two exchanged a rapid nod before one of them kneeled down, unsheathing a blade from their belt. She paled at the sight of the weapon, noticing for the first time how the temperature had dropped and the air had got cold, breezing along her clammed and sweaty skin. But the mysterious figure only leaned towards her, unimpressed by her fear, and quickly cut through the ropes that were restricting her wrists. Her relief at being freed was short lived, though, as the person in front of her immediately clutched a hand around her right forearm, exposing in the feeble light shining through the door, the unwavering golden river swimming in the blackness of her tattoo.

“These shems weren’t lying! She’s one of us!” the figure kneeling in front of her seethed, and their voice rang clear in the small room. It was of a woman, she thought, but due to the darkness she could not be completely sure.

“Andraste, Melchor’s gonna be insufferable when he finds out!” the other voice replied. This one was unmistakably male, low and rough, but his tone was more tired than angered, and she thanked the lord for small mercies.

“We can’t leave her here anyway, might as well let the old men have a field trip with her” the female voice declared, shaking her shoulders under the heavy black hood.

The man sighed, defeated.

“All right, we are bringing her back. Go get one of those drunkard’s cloak, the last thing I want is to explain to some guard what are we doing…” the man trailed off, moving aside so that the woman could pass through the door.

“As if they could do anything” the woman scoffed as she straightened, brushed off her pants and went to do as she had been told.

Once she was out the door, the man took her place, kneeling in front of her.

He searched her face for something, noting how red and puffy her eyes were, the dirt that stuck to her cropped, dark brown hair, the cut on her lower lip, and the half broken contraption that sat crookedly on her nose. She looked down right terrified and exhausted, and he had never seen her before, there was no way she could be a member of the Kirkwallers. And yet…the mark that shone undismayed on her right arm was exactly the same as the one he had on his chest, just above his heart. He had never heard before of someone who could replicate the mark, and the secret on how to apply it was efficiently protected by the whole guild.

He remembered that a Jenny had tried to steal the formula once, as a vindictive prank, but had ultimately failed.

No other attempt had been made, and he was positive that this girl could not have done it by herself alone.

“W-who are…you?”

He heard the whisper only because he was still staring intently at her face, otherwise he might have completely missed it.

“My name is Simmons, and that woman there is Athras. We are members of the Kirkwallers, and you are coming back with us… – he explained, watching a frown etching itself in between her brows. – And I can see that nothing that I told makes sense to you…” he mumbled, as if complaining to himself.

“Oh by the Dread Wolf, stop explaining yourself and let’s get a move on! I don’t wanna stumble across the Coterie just because you like ‘ta chat with hostages!” the woman hissed from the door, where she was now standing holding another cape.

The girl’s eyes shot open as yet another word shook something in her head.

 “Wait – let me ask at least this: what is your name?” Simmons asked, watching apprehensively for her to give him an answer.

_Yes, who am I?_

She remembered her name and age, where she was from and everything else about herself, but was it wise to reveal it all to strangers in even more strange environment? Everything she had ever read/saw suggested that it was a bad idea, and so she went with the next best option she could think of.

“…no one…” she muttered, meekly.

 “Fine. You are _telin_ , now let’s go!” the woman hissed again, and this time the man seemed to abide to her wishes, raising  and, in doing so, grabbed the girl, the _telin_ , by her shoulders and dragged her up with him.

“I’m sorry, but can you stand? We need to leave, now” he said, stressing on the urgency.

The girl swung slightly, but Simmons helped her steady herself.

“We are not going to harm you, so follow us, ok?” he added gently, moving away from her and out the door.

Indecision and fear stalled her feet for a moment, but then, after stealing a glance at the sleeping merry band of thugs, she decided that anywhere was better than staying there, tied and panicked.

Maybe these two could give her some answers as to where she was…

With a new resolution, born more out of desperation than anything else, the girl reached for the cape that Athras was still holding, and swung it around her shoulders, drawing the hood over her head.

“Now move, _telin_ ” Athras prodded her, slightly shoving her out the door.

The strange, unnamed girl, stepped through the door, and the first thing she was faced with, beside from the broad back of Simmons’ hooded figure, was a gigantic graffiti of the same tattoo that adorned her right forearm, the black design smeared with red paint that formed what seemed a way more simplistic version of the one underneath.

“This way” she heard Simmons say, and her feet started moving before she could say or do anything.

It was probably best not to get lost, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen:  
> Athras --> Half in Shadow (guess what class is she? *wiggles eyebrows*)  
> Telin --> No one


	4. The City of Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little, casual, stroll through the City gives the telin girl a bit of an headache...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

_Kirkwall, the city of chains_ , or so her mind had provided for her, all those hours ago, in that smelly alleyway. She had no recollection of ever hearing or reading anything about it, but it was as if the knowledge was stored in her brain independently.

She had had little time to think and consider once outside the hovel, as Simmons started to walk away. She could hear Athras’ light steps behind her, but she would not dare turn around and check if she really was there, lest she lost sight of Simmons’ back and got lost.

They walked in silence, mainly keeping to the shadows as they made their way through one dirt street after the other, buildings made of stone and sand raising at the sides, each identical to the other, differentiated only by either height or state of decay. Every so often she would catch sight of another graffiti adorning the walls, but only the red ones. Sometimes, behind a particularly dark corner, some shadows would pop up, usually they were always groups of three or four, but after a quick glance towards her companions they would turn around and ignore the three of them as if they hadn’t even seen them.

As she moved forward, with her body in autopilot and her eyes hooked on Simmons broad shoulders, her mind took up the moment of clarity to process the events that had piled up to that moment.

She had been walking home from the train station, same road as always in the past fifteen years, and she had chosen to cut through the neighborhood in order to get home quicker.

Okay, that was still clear enough.

Then she had casually found a weird mirror just laying on the side of the road, which had proceeded to suck her up inside. Then her arm had started to hurt real bad, the tattoo burning as if someone had just lit a fire on it.

_And then what?_

That was a good question, one that had an answer, but not an understandable one.

She had woken up in that alleyway, in a place that those thugs had called “ _Kirkwall_ ”, and that her subconscious seemed to recognize.

If that was the case, did that mean that her memories of this place had been sealed away somehow?

Maybe her brain had blocked it off in an attempt to prevent her from experiencing trauma. Well, _less_ trauma anyway.

That made sense, more sense than she had found since waking up in that unfamiliar and unwelcomed place.

With her mind occupied, she failed to pay attention to where her feet where going, and almost trampled to the ground when her foot hit and missed the first step of a stairwell.

She closed her eyes and extended her arms as a reaction to the fall, but the fall didn’t come.

From behind, Athras had quickly stepped forward and grabbed her by her shirt, preventing her from making the acquaintance of the ground.

“Pay attention to where you’re going, _telin_. I’ve got better shit to do than peel you off the fuckin’ ground” the woman growled, steadying her back up.

The girl turned, a sheepish, embarrassed, blush spreading over her pale face, and nodded her thanks.

When she turned, she was caught off guard by the magnitude of the stairwell in front of her. It was such a stark difference between the dirty and dusty roads behind her, all the white stone felt like a sudden punch in the gut to look at. It was large and tall, and she could swear she did not see where it ended.

A sudden breeze swirled down from the top, and her eyes caught movement in their peripheral vision.

Red.

She turned her head and two distinct roads of blood red flags appeared in front of her eyes: each and every one of them bearing the jet black symbol that was permanently etched in the skin of her right forearm.

“W- what is that?” she asked, suddenly feeling the compulsion to start filling in some pieces of the puzzle in her head. If her brain was really holding information up, then maybe getting some new ones would help her unlock those.

Behind her, she heard Athras sigh.

“What are you, stupid or something?” the woman mumbled in annoyance, drilling a hole in the back of the girl’s head with her pointed glare.

“I- feel like I should know, but I don’t…” the girl trailed off, her voice getting smaller and smaller with each word that left her lips.

She hated not knowing things, and more so when people called her out for it.

Which was one of the reasons why she never asked for help when she didn’t know or understand something.

“Go easy on her, she might be traumatized, after all” Simmons clear voice intervened in her favor, but did nothing to abash the redness on her cheeks.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” the woman growled out in all response, only managing to make the man chuckle back at her.

“Then don’t be rude” he replied, not even bothering to look back as he climbed up the stairs. “Anyway, that logo you see on the flags? That’s the crest of the city. It is a stylized knot work representation of a dragon; it evolved from a symbol of rebellion from the time when Kirkwall was a centre for the Tevinter slave trade. It was an image that catalyzed the slaves to overthrow the ruling Magisters. While the symbol has changed over time, its message has not: Kirkwall is a city unto itself, beholden to no one” he explained, his voice clear and steady as if he was used to speaking up like that. Much like a good teacher would have.

But it was not his voice that captured her undivided attention: the things he said, the information he had relayed…they were doing _things_ in her mind.

_“Kirkwall, one of three city states in the Free Marches. The city of Chains. Slave Trade. Magisters. Tevinter. Mages. Elves. Chantry. Exalted Marches. Segregation. Conflict. War. The Blight!”_

It was the start of an overload, and her head began to throb painfully, her brain failing to contain all the information that had been unlocked in the span of minutes.

“Motherfucker-!” she cried out, cradling her head with both hands, feet stalling on a unnumbered step.

Simmons and Athras stopped and shared a confused look. Confusion turned into worry when the girl, the _telin_ , fell down on her knees, head cradled in her hands, yelling out in pain.

“What in the Maker’s name-?” Simmons exclaimed, but was interrupted by Athras shoving past him to get to the potions that he kept stored in a pouch on his belt.

“Telin. _Telin_ look at me!” she hissed, grabbing not so gently the girl by a shoulder and forcing her to look up at her. “Drink this, it will help” the woman said, uncorking the small vial and pushing it in her hand.

The girl spared just a glance at the red liquid in the vial before she outright downed it all in one go, eager to get the pain away. A fresh taste of peppermint was left behind all the way down her throat as she drunk the contents of the potion, the tail end of her migraine already disappearing, alleviating the pressure on the back of her head.

Quietly, she started to take deep breathes, the effects of whatever drug she had just taken slowly spreading to her whole body.

“Ok, back on your feet _telin_ , we still have ground to cover” Athras declared hurriedly, helping her back on her feet despite her harsh words.

Simmons put off the questions that had naturally started to accumulate on the tip of his tongue and went back on climbing.

After that, they made quick work of the staircase, passing from Lowtown to Hightown.

Oddly enough, Hightown way always way worse than Lowtown at night, and the group picked up the pace. The girl looked around in awe as white, marbled, tiles took the place of dirt beaten roads, the buildings rose higher, and everything had an expensive look to it.

It was clear that they had passed towards the ‘fancier’ part of the city, and she marvelled at the sight of every single sight as they passed through wider roads and fancy archways adorned in gold.

She was so taken with her surroundings that she almost failed to notice Simmons coming to a stop in front of her. He was standing in front of a small, wooden door encased on a wall that was more shadows than actual stone.

“Here we are, now all that remains is to see whether Melchor will freak out or not” he sighed as Athras stepped up next to him.

“Of course he will freak out, but you know better than me how much he likes freaks..” she huffed, throwing a glance towards the _telin_ girl that was in front of her.

The girl was all wide eyed and dirty cheeks, mussed hair and torn clothes, and was eyeing everything warily.

She sighed.

It was not every day that someone popped out of nowhere with a Kirkwallers mark on them, and especially it was not a mundane thing that the person in question had no clue as to what or whom the Kirkwallers were in the first place.

Simmons shrugged and offered no further answer before he went and unlocked the door.

The girl leaned towards it, peeking inside, and was met only with complete darkness.

She shivered.

What other mind-blowing thing was waiting in there?

_Well, beats staying out here for sure…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, some achievements unlocked, a bit it more sense into this shitstorm.  
> 


	5. The Guild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions are something to work on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

The dark hallway stretched lazily through the insides of the mansion, cutting off the main body of the residence, descending right inside the belly of the house.

Simmons and Athras walked through it with a feeling of safety and serenity, both pleased to be home for the night. Behind them, the _telin_ trailed hurriedly to keep up with them, even though Simmons would never just leave her to get lost.

The shem could, at times, be very condescending with everyone around him, and the fact that he picked up this stray girl was a good example. They knew nothing of who she was or what she was doing getting caught by idiot thugs; worse yet, they had no fucking idea how the mark had ended on her arm. It was painfully obvious that she was disoriented, the way she kept glancing at everything and everyone around her, or the fact that she had no idea where she was. And what about those weird clothes she was wearing, anyway? They looked...not normal.

Athras grimaced to herself at her own loquacity, although _'wording'_ had never been her forte to begin with. She'd always been the ‘stab first ask questions later’ kinda girl, after all.

Next to her, Simmons seemed completely absorbed in his own thoughts as well. She guessed that even he would be at least a bit overwhelmed by the strange _telin_ they had just picked up. Though she did not agree wholeheartedly at his decision to bring her back to the guild, she could concur that this was a situation that needed Melchor's attention asap.

She just hoped that he would use some sensibility, for a change.

Soon enough, the darkness of the hallway left the place to the soft hues of the candle light. Another turn left and one set of stairs down, and the common room appeared in front if their eyes, as wide and warm as ever. A small smile graced Athras' tattooed lips, smile that she immediately schooled into a grimace as her figure appeared in the light. Behind her, Simmons stopped right at the bottom of the stairs, back to the room, waiting for the _telin_ to catch up.

The girl came to a stop short of the steps, eyes blurring a bit in the soft glow of candles, and took a careful glance around the room. It reminded her of a surprising amount of things, but most of all of the warm and cozy basement room of-

She frowned.

Whose basement room was it again?

Shit.

Were her memories already fading? Was it because of where she was?

The migraine she had experimented a while back had filled her head with mismatched information, leaving her mind a tangled web that she felt the pressing need to untangle.

But there were more pressing matters to attend to. Like the huge room in front of her eyes, filled with long tables, sofas of dubious materials, a couple fire places, and- was that a bar in the corner?

Her frown just deepened.

Even more preoccupying than the furniture were the faces that were staring back at her. Men and women, some with incredibly cured appearances, some that looked like they could have murdered her with just their little finger.

A shudder ran through her whole body, and she had to work not to let go of a yelp.

"Come now, don't worry. These ugly looking people will do you no harm" Simmons said, chuckling when angry grumbles rose from the several people seated at the tables.

 _Get a grip on yourself girl, we need answers_ she told herself as she tentatively stepped down the few stairs and into the room.

Once she was level with Simmons - well, he still stood a good forty centimeters taller, but still - the man cautiously put a hand on her back, guiding her forward. They passed through several tables, with the man never actually stopping but replying to each and every one of the greetings and/or comments he received, as he navigated them towards one of the two fireplaces.

Seated in an ample, low, armchair was a giant of a man, his bulk barely fitting in the seat. The girl immediately noticed how his skin looked grayish under the wan light of the fire, darker shadows dancing along his bare arms as the fire shifted on the burning logs. Then she caught a glimpse of white, and her eyes followed the straight lock of hair up towards the scalp, where two long and sharp looking horns curved back and away from his head.

 _Qunari,_ her head supplied for her.

A small gasp broke free of her lips, catching the attention of Athras, who had promptly discarded her cloak and made a bee line for Melchor. She stood proudly in front of the qunari now, hands clasped behind her straight back, head held high, her long, sharp ears freed from the shadow of the hood.

Melchor's eyes followed Athras', and he leaned out on his right, swiping his long horns to the side, long, white, straight hair cascading on his shoulders as he twisted his torso. He saw Simmons first, who was now unclasping his own cloak, then his keen violet eyes swept to the small girl on his side.

"Ah, so this is she then. The Imekari Athras speaks about" he said, his voice resonating crystal clear to the girl's ears. It was like listening to the flow of a river, low but strong.

"Aye, that's the one alright" Simmons replied, shrugging off the cloak and gently prodding her to move in front of the fire.

The girl fidgeted a bit on the hem of her t-shirt, but eventually stepped forward.

Melchor followed her with his eyes, turning to sit up straight in his chair when she stopped right in front of him. He was silent for a long while as his eyes scanned her figure up and down. At a first glance it was obvious she was scared and feeling lost, she was covered in dust from head to toe, and her clothes were _uncharacteristic,_ though not unseen before. The thugs that had found her must have been a whole other level of stupid to even think that she could really be a member of the Guild; she probably had never picked up a weapon in her whole life, she was clearly not a fighter.

He smiled.

Maybe she wasn't now, but she was going to.

"Tell me girl, what is your name?" his baritone voice rang out, though the girl did not lift her eyes from the extremely interesting spot on the floor.

Again, she thought about herself. She still remembered her full name, age, and address. She remembered her parents' names as well as her brother's and her grandparents'...but was it even worth it to say it out loud? It felt as if she were desecrating something holy, so instead of offering her real name, she just shrugged.

"I'm really no one.." She muttered, not daring to speak louder than that. Her throat was also very sore and dry after all the crying she had done back in the hovel...

The expression on Melchor's face remained neutral, revealing nothing.

"As you wish then, Imekari" he said, bowing his horned head slightly.

The four of them were silent for a while, the noises of the inhabitants of the guild filling the empty space, but then Athras' annoyed huff broke the balance.

"Is there something you wish to share, Athras?" Melchor asked, his gaze lazily shifting from the girl to the elf.

Athras stiffened ever so slightly under the qunari gaze. She'd never been able to shake off the intimidating effect that he had in her. She was no longer that scared little girl he had found in the mountains, she could give him something to work with in a fight, even if she was not sure she could win.

"She's _telin_ , we got that already. Can we get on to the important stuff now? Like how in Mythal's name she got our mark on her little chubby arm?" She said, defying, her chin held high - though she kept her arms crossed on her chest.

Melchor sighed.

"All in due time, my friend. For now show her to the bath and give her clean clothes to wear. Then we'll reconvene to discuss this" he announced then, motioning with his head for the girl to follow Athras.

"Go. She'll take care of you" he told her, his full mouth turning slightly upwards in a reassuring smile.

The girl didn't find it _that_ reassuring looking at his sharp features, but turned to follow the elf nonetheless. She wasn't in a position to refuse, and a bath and food sounded like an excellent plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Imekari = Child (qunlat)  
> Telin = No one (elvhen)
> 
> This is a very short first impression, also I'm starting to go crazy without a name to refer the MC as!


	6. Melchor's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An offer you can't refuse, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

The bath was actually a very welcomed reprise from all the hours spent in the dirt, and the girl tried to enjoy it to her best. She had stopped talking right after Athras had replied to one of her questions with an icy glare, declaring that she wasn’t there to entertain her. So she kept her curiosity at bay, storing away all the things she found interesting or unknown in the hope she could ask about them later. She wondered, as she soaked, about the strange stones attached to the lower parts of the tube, and on how the water could turn hot when it came out cold of the taps. Well, it was surprising they had taps to begin with, really.

She bathed fairly quickly, scrubbing away at her skin to remove the caked dirt accumulated on her arms and face with a piece of soap that the elf had thrown at her not-so-gently before she left her to her privacy. After she was done cleaning up her body, she turned the soap in her hands and then proceeded to wash her hair. Luckily enough she had just cut them really short before- before. At least it was one less thing to worry about.

When she emerged from the tub, she spotted a towel and some clothes resting on a nearby chair. She grabbed the piece of cloth and dried herself up, then wrapped it around herself and went to check the clothes. The assemble turned out to be a pair of soft, leather leggings – _leather,_ she had never worn leather before! – that looked too big to be the elf’s, a well worn, red cotton shirt with laces on the front and a pair of…those had to be the weirdest pair of panties she’d ever seen, and modern underwear was all about the crazy. She noted that her bra was gone, and she couldn’t feel sorry for its disappearance. She’d never liked to wear those boobs traps, it was a good chance to let the girls be free.

She giggled a bit inwardly as she got dressed, relieved that she still could make use of her sense of humor despite everything.

Once she was decent, she stepped outside, finding Athras lounging by the wall. The elf threw her a glare and started to walk off without saying a word.

When they returned to the main room, the smell of food hit her hard, reminding her mind that her body hadn’t ingested anything in the past day. Her stomach growled in response, drawing an amused look from Athras, who just looked the other way to disguise her smile.

The woman led the _telin_ through the tables, much as Simmons had done earlier, until they found a pair of horns and blinding white hair emerging from the crowd.

Melchor was always easy to spot wherever he went, a detail that to Athras always seemed redundant as a rogue, but he was never bothered by it. If not for the hair, then it was the horns that gave him away, and the qunari enjoyed his fame very much – despite what he might say if ever questioned about it.

The elf sat down next to Simmons, who was occupying the spot on Melchor’s right, and nodded for the _telin_ to sit across from the qunari.

“Feeling any better?” the qunari asked, turning his violet gaze upon the girl.

He noted that with clean clothes and a clean face she looked a bit older than he had initially surmised at first sight, which was a bit of a relief. He was used to train or have in training people from a young age, but since her circumstances were _peculiar_ , it was good that she wasn’t exactly _that_ young. Not for their world, at least.

“A bit, thank you” she replied with a faint smile, her hands still fidgeting under the table. That huge man made her wary, and even if she knew – well, she _knew_ – that qunari were not inherited violent, she still was nervous. Never in her life she had ever seen such big person…it was unnerving.

A low, steady growling sound coming from her stomach made silence fell on the whole table. A terrible wave of embarrassment hit her in full force, red blush blooming all over her face and chest, and then everyone started laughing. Not really _at her_ , but still.

“Someone bring food at this girl! She’s starving!” Melchor yelled over his shoulder, then turned to show the smirk that was adorning his lips.

A big, steamy, bowl of stew was delivered soon after, and the girl seemed to dig in it with gusto. It wasn’t that the stew had much taste or was particularly good, but everything was a viable option to hid her face.

“Now, since you are well, it’s time to talk business” the qunari’s voice turned to serious, and the girl raised her eyes to him. He was looking at her with the face of someone who was attentively calculating something, something that probably involved her directly.

She grimaced.

She wasn’t going to like what was coming, was she?

“You appeared out of nowhere in our city, bearing a Mark that only I and a couple other persons – other _mages,_ posses the knowledge to craft, with no name to yourself and no idea of where you are. Now tell me, doesn’t that sound highly suspicious to you?” he mused, lacing his fingers together under his chin and leaning onto it.

The girl’s hand stilled with the spoon midway to her mouth, frozen with shock.

_Well, when he says it like that…_

She gulped, forcing herself to function again under his hard scrutiny.

 _Wait –_ her brain caught up to her – _did he just say Mage?_

“Judging by her face just right now, I’d wager she shares your opinion, old man” another voice joined in by her left, and she turned to see a very handsome woman approach their table. She stood tall, taller than her for sure, with large hips and a … _flourishing_ bosom, to put it mildly. Her skin was dark chocolate brown, and a bush of curly red hair framed her round face. She had large, honey eyes and full, heart lips that were pulled in crooked smile.

In a word, she was _stunning_.

“I’m not old” Melchor huffed, and was that a _pout_ he was making?

On his right she heard Simmons giggle.

“It’s good to see you, Maria” the human man greeted the newcomer, offering a cheeky smile.

Athras, next to him, just seemed to glower harder.

“It’s good to see you too, sweet cheeks” Maria singed back, positioning her lovely round butt on the bench next to the girl.

“At any rate, you should not worry about it. This girl obviously isn’t after our secrets, nor is she a danger to us. Am I right?” the woman continued, picking the discussion back up.

Not knowing if the question was a rhetorical one, the girl preferred not to reply.

“I know. I also know how she got here” Melchor was the one to speak, drawing everyone’s eyes to him, put the girl’s in particular.

“You know? Then tell me!” she all but yelled, intimidation forgotten in the face of answers.

The mage’s eyes zeroed on her.

“And why should I? You are still walking around with my mark, _our_ mark on you. I don’t get anything from just _telling_ you” he explained, finally showing his hand.

The girl frowned.

“And what would you want from me? I’m no one” she rebuked, suddenly aware that her bad temper was rising. She had just had a hell of a day, she’d bite the horns off his head for a chance to go back and forget this was something more than a very vivid dream.

“So you say, little _nemo_. But everyone can be useful in some way or another” Maria said, referring to her with yet another word she did not understand.

 _No, wait. I do_ know _that word!_

 _It’s not_ only _about the fish that got lost, you know right?_ Her brain mocked, making her wish she could hit her inner, little bitch of a voice.

_I know, thank you very much._

“What’s your point then?” she asked warily, kind of scared of the answer she would receive from either of them.

“The Kirkwallers are a guild of spies and assassins, we offer our clients a list of vast services, and we are highly regarded in the city for our sense of propriety. We only act towards are marks and never to harm the innocents. As spies, any new face that is not known in this society, is always a powerful asset. So you see, your presence here does have a point, after all” Melchor said, laying out the bare truth in front of her.

_Assassins?!_

_Motherfucking assassins?_

_For real?_

_Oh jesus…_

She head-butted herself mentally, cursing her karma for this rather _unfortunate_ outcome.

She sighed.

“Mr. , I don’t want to let you down so soon, but I have no skill whatsoever in the things you just mentioned. I’m just-“

“Yes, yes we know. You are _no one_. Can we skip this?” Athras cut her off impatiently, huffing and glaring from her spot.

The girl glared back, taking the elf a bit off guard.

“I was going to say that I’m just some random girl who has never done anything more than study in her life. I’m going to be of no use to you” she explained, taking a spoonful of stew as she finished speaking.

Melchor pondered her words attentively, studying her pensively.

“You’ll be trained first, of course. It’ll take time, but I’m sure it’ll be worth the information that I got” he smiled, and the girl felt a shiver run down her spine. That was the smile of a predator, of man that new his power and how to use it, and that had no problem in taking what he wanted. And right now, that thing was _her_.

The little girl, now so out of her element, found herself, for the first time in her life, thinking about her imminent future. Before, back home, it had always been about planning ahead with her studies, the travels, plans for a life that had yet to come; never had she found herself taking a decision that would shape her life so drastically.

But there, in that unknown place full of variables she could not predict, what choice did she have? She bore the Mark of the Kirkwallers, and it seemed she belonged to them regardless of her own will.

“There is really no point in refusing. You have something I need and, apparently, I _am_ something _you_ need. – she paused, looking down into her now empty bowl of stew – I’m not stupid, I know when to accept a deal” she finished, meeting those unnerving violet eyes halfway.

Her words drew the first genuine smile on the qunari’s lips, and she felt something shift in her stomach at the sight.

“That’s what I like to hear, little girl” he replied, his voice oozing self satisfaction. He probably was this close from patting himself on his very broad, very muscular shoulders…

The last of the stew kind of went the wrong way down her throat, and she had to cough a couple times to avoid chocking on a piece of undefined vegetable.

“So, what can we call you anyway?” Maria quipped from besides her, peeling her attention away from the man’s shoulders.

“And don’t say  _no one_ , or Athras here is probably going to punch you” she laughed, almost oblivious to the very heated glare she was receiving from said rogue.

“I – don’t really know. I guess anything’s fine at this point” she said, shrugging.

Her real name was hers and hers only, this world would not have it.

“I say we just call her _telin_. She does like to insist on it” Athras threw there nonchalantly, as if she was not really invested in the whole conversation.

“What does that even mean?” Simmons anticipated her own question.

Athras offered one really smug smile before speaking.

“ _No one_ , of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, finally I can start referring to my oc as something else other than "she" or "the girl"! Everyone's just gonna wing it and go with Telin, so that's what she'll be called from now on!


	7. Sticks & Bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athras takes Telin for a stroll - she's not pleased to be compared to a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

Without her even noticing, a week had went by in Kirkwall. After that first night, all members of the Kirkwallers had heard of her, and each of them had started to refer to her as Telin, the same way Athras had since the beginning. She knew it wasn’t exactly a name per se, but after a couple days spent refusing the nickname, she just gave up. If they insisted to call her that, she supposed she could wing it as well. It was always better that being called ‘girl’ or ‘child’ or ‘ _nemo’_ , as Maria keep insisting on calling her.

Once or twice her tongue had slipped, lamenting out loud that no, she was _not_ a fish, _thank you very much_ , a comment that had garnered her a series of curious starts, to which she had responded with raised eyebrows, as if to provoke them to ask her about it. They had labeled her as weird, and left her to her own devices.

Well, _more or less_.

The week had been spent in between hours listening to Simmons’ tales on the history of Thedas – which her brain quickly recognized, bringing her up to speed with just _some_ events that she wasn’t even sure had happened yet – and, much to her chagrin, physical activities with Athras. The elf hadn’t been very happy to be tasked with Telin’s training, but she’d soon learned that she liked to see her suffer, if only a little bit.

Telin had never been one for sports in general, or at least not in the last five years or so.

At any rate, Athras was relentless in her training: running laps around the mansion, sit-ups and push-ups, several stretching routines, and even some hand-to-hand combat and basic weapon training.

Telin sighed as she slipped a bit more in the bathtub, groaning as her muscles cried out in pain.

She definitely was not used to this kind of continuous strain, and the fact that Melchor hadn’t showed up since their talk that first night, disappearing barely the morning after, had left her in a sour mood. He had hinted not-so-subtly that he knew what had happened to her, but had not offered to share what information he possessed. What an infuriating man!

Her musing where interrupted by a rather impolite knock on her door, and she immediately knew who was on the other side.

“Move it Telin, I’ve things to do other than babysit you!” Athras’ harsh voice rang through the wood, making Telin sigh in defeat. It seemed there would be no peace to be found inside the Kirkwallers’ hideout.

“I’m coming! Just give me five minutes!” she yelled back, hurrying to get out and get dressed. She didn’t bother drying her hair, putting the clothes on as quickly as humanly possible, and unlocked the door.

“You look like someone has beaten you up several times with a stick” the elf sniggered as she regarded her haggard look.

Telin glared down at her unwilling chaperon and teacher, folding her arms in front of her.

“Don’t be a sore loser, I’m even taking you out for a stroll today” the other woman informed her, smiling slyly, as if she were talking to a dog.

But Telin was grateful for the change of pace, truthfully. She had yet to be allowed to go out and about by herself in the city, not even during the day, for fear that she might get lost – which could easily happen – or mugged, or worse. She had tried not to get offended when Simmons had told her as much, but she knew his words held a silver of truth. Her brain, for how much useless was turning out to be, did provide her with some sparse pictures of how crude life in Kirkwall could be.

She quietly followed Athras through the corridors of the house, emerging in the studio where Simmons was scribbling away at some letters. This room was the man’s favorite, she had learned, and it was there that he diligently thought her of the history of Thedas and Kirkwall in particular. It was also there, with no small amount of astonishment, they had discovered that, for how much she could understand and speak the Common Tongue, she had no effing idea how to read it. The letters were an assemble of symbols she had never seen before in her life, and were probably even more confusing than some languages she had come across in her studies. And so, the man had taken it upon himself to help her learn to read and write. She felt a bit ashamed at her own lacking, but then reminded herself that, as a student of foreign languages, that was not the first the first time she had to learn to read and write from the basics. So, with her ignorance partly justified, she had started to feel better. No significant amount of progress had been made in the few days, but Simmons was confident she would be reading in no time. Well, at least one of them had some hope.

“Hey Sims, you got the groceries’ list?” the elf asked as she stepped inside, startling poor Simmons that had been so absorbed in his writings.

Telin rose an eyebrow at her request. They were going out for _groceries_? Really.

 _Well, I guess even spies and assassins have to eat_ …she mused to herself.

It was odd enough that she had gotten herself so used to the fact that there were a number of people that really were assassins leaving under the same roof as her – though her first days she had spent in denial, crying herself to sleep, training with Athras had made it painfully obvious that this was all real enough.

But assassins going for groceries? It was almost endearing.

“Yeah, here you go. – he said, handing the piece of paper out for her to take, then glanced over at the girl – Are you taking Telin out?” he inquired, careful not to rub the girl the wrong way. In that short week, apart from the first couple days, he had learned that Telin possessed quite the temperament, and was prone to outbursts that made it clear she was very used to speak her mind rather freely. She did not approve of someone else limiting her freedom, but she had agreed with him – even if reluctantly – that it was safer for her to remain inside the mansion for the time being.

“Maria said she needed fresh air” Athras shrugged, again speaking as if she was referring to a pet that needed to stretch and run around.

“Yes, do speak of me as if I’m a dog, it’s not as if I can’t hear you” Telin huffed from the door, regarding Athras with a sour look on her face.

Simmons grimaced, but her partner in crimes only laughed.

“Calm your saggy tits, _telin_. If you behave, I’ll bring you to the smithy to see what armor and weapons we can equip you with” she grinned at her own smart outcome, and waved Simmons goodbye with the groceries’ list between her fingers.

The man watched as the elf sauntered off, followed by a very reddened Telin.

The girl fumed for a while, offended and embarrassed that Athras had commented so coarsely on her body, even though she knew she had done only as a mean to rouse. Which worked perfectly.

She was very self-conscious about the way she looked, she did not need to be reminded of how her body looked _wrong_ , not here of all places. It was enough that everyone seemed fine with doing it back home.

A pang of nostalgia and regret settled itself in her chest. There were only a handful of persons that had never used her weight against her, and if she never found a way back, they were going to be one of her biggest regret. She already missed them fiercely, maybe even more so than she missed her family. Her independence and wish to leave home for a far away country had always been known, and she was quite used to be away from home for extended periods of times…the only thing that weighed on her was how abruptly she had disappeared. Were they looking for her? They probably were…

 _How can you be sure that your presence here has affected the world back home in the same way? Maybe time has just stopped while you’re here_ , she thought, hopeful that that would be the case. That way, no one would be pained by her departure.

Lost in her thoughts, she had failed to notice that they were already out and about through Hightown, with Athras moving from one stall to the other, conversing amiably with the owners. Or maybe they were only intimidated by her presence and tried to acquiesced to her requests as quickly as they could while trying not to anger her. Yes, Telin decided, that must be the case.

As the elf took care of the groceries, the girl took advantage of the relative freedom to look around. The market place was way bigger than what her mind seemed to remember, but she knew from her chats with Simmons, that Hightown was divided in pretty much the same way that she seemed to already know.

There was the red light district, with the Blooming Rose as its jewel, the square and subsequent streets and buildings owned by the dwarven Merchants’ Guild, the imposing shadow casted by the Vicount’s palace and the impressive space dedicated to the city’s Chantry. Then there were the residential areas that extended all around. Yes, she suspected that the rest of the city was exactly as her mind had conjured, even if the proportions were all wrong.

Athras came up to her some time later with a basket in each hand. She did not hand one to her, and she did not try to offer her help to the woman, if only for fear of offending her or something. The last thing she needed was to be beaten with a basket other than with a stick.

“This way Telin, we are going to get you outfitted at least” she said as she climbed the stairs towards the Merchants’ Guild quarters. “We may not be able to figure out what weapon suits you better, but we can at least take a look, see what tickles your fancies” she explained, walking, for a change, next to the girl instead of ahead of her.

Telin thought about it with some reserve, weighting her options.

She knew a bit about fighting stiles, though not enough to call herself a connoisseur of any kind.

Using a staff was automatically ruled out as she was no mage and would not have any use for the thing; she also ruled out the option of using a sword. For as much as she like the idea of swords, she could not see herself hold one ever. She was clumsy, too clumsy, and the only thing she could see herself do with those pointy things was accidentally stabbing herself. So thank you, but no thank you. That left for little else. She knew Athras was a rogue and fought with dual blades, but she still was not so sure she was made to be in the fray.

A light bulb went up in her brain.

Of course, she could try archery!

She had kind of always wanted to try it out, but had never come around and done it.

“What about a bow?” she asked casually, throwing a careful glance to her companion.

Athras regaled her with a skeptic glance.

“You? A _rogue_?” she snorted, much to Telin discontentment.

“What of it? I’m not saying that I’ll be able to be a good one, I just thought that, maybe, being far away from the fight wouldn’t be so bad. And I’ve always liked archery” she protested, making sure to let the other woman know how far her displeasure went.

A gruff laugh caught both women’s attention, and they pivoted on their heels, only to be met with a head of strawberry blond hair. Telin followed the hair down, finding herself face to face – so to speak – with a very handsome dwarf. He had a ruggedly handsome face, a crooked smile, and golden eyes that matched is golden earrings and necklace. Her eyes travelled even more south, noticing his open jacket revealed a fully exposed hairy chest. Immediately, her gaze shot on his back, where the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Strapped on the dwarf’s back was the most incredibly confusing contraption that Telin had ever seen.

“Varric Tethras!” she couldn’t help but hiss excitedly.

Why was she reacting so strongly to this tiny man, though, was above herself.

Not a moment later than she had formulated that thought, her mind conjured a series of images in front of her eyes.

This very dwarf addressing a tall man – or was it a woman? – in the very spot they were now, then he was running around a very dark an ominous place. The next moment he was sitting at a table, laughing and drinking with a group of undefined shadows, and then he was firing the crossbow he so loved – Bianca. Many others instances piled behind her eyes, but she was unable to look further as a strong hand shook – quite literally – out  of her reverie.

“Telin!” she heard Athras call to her, and immediately she was back in the busy streets of Hightown, with the elf gripping her arm and the dwarf watching her with worry and curiosity in his eyes.

“I- sorry, I’m fine” she stuttered out, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

This was the first episode she had suffered since that first night, and she could already feel a headache forming in the back on her head.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” the woman asked, eyes blown wide.

Had she been worried? For real?

Telin dismissed the thought, trying to deflect what had just happened.

“It must be the heat, I’m not used to this temperatures, forgive me” she said, sheepishly, knowing well that was a technique that worked almost every single time.

Varric seemed to relax a bit at her words, even though Athras did not drop her guard.

“See Stabbity? _This_ is the effect I usually have on women” he offered, chuckling at his own cleverness. Athras snorted, but instead of correcting the dwarf on his use of nicknames, she just gave him the middle finger.

“Fuck off Tethras, not every woman finds your chest hair attractive” she glowered, though Telin could see the playfulness in her posture.

“Ah, you wound me!” he replied in the same jokingly matter.

His eyes were then back on the girl, who had just witnessed the exchange with a smile on her lips. Despite the blooming pain, she now understood that the dwarf would play an important part in her life, and she was determined in taking advantage of it.

“I believe I do not have the pleasure of knowing you Serrah, despite your knowledge of my person that is” he said politely, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

It was not every day that he met someone new, especially in the company of one of the most notorious members of the Kirkwallers. That alone deserved all of his attention.

“Her? She’s just no one” Athras anticipated her, mirth coloring her voice as the words left her mouth. In barely seven days that little phrase had become somewhat of an inside joke for the whole guild, and Telin scowled a bit inwardly. She had wanted to make a good first impression, though she doubted the dwarf would ever forget her momentarily _episode_.

She sighed.

“Yup, that’s me. No one” she quipped, spreading her arms as if to present her small person.

Varric immediately noted the golden tattoo on her right forearm.

“Even though they call me _Telin_ , for short” she said then, folding her arms again.

Varric Tethras did not lose a beat.

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Telin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Varric elegantly walks into the picture!  
> Will his presence trigger something more consistent visions in Telin's mind?  
> 


	8. Varric's Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric asks questions that no one can answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

"So, how long have you been here?" The dwarf asked casually as he fell in stride with the two women. He wasn't exactly free to go around and take a stroll, but the novelty of the fresh face was enough to garner his interest; his writer's sense was also piqued, and he needed to sate his newfound curiosity.

"Uh, a week more or less?" Telin answered noncommittally, faking her lapse of memory. In truth she was counting every minute, but that would only manage to raise the suspicions that Varric already had, undoubtedly.

"Uh, interesting. And were you already a member or is that something recent?" He went on, having obviously noticed how the mark shone brightly under the sun.

"She's fresh, just got in. We are going to pick armor and weapons right now" Athras intervened before Telin could make an excuse that would complicate the whole matter immensely.

It had been made very clear to her that the secrets of the Kirkwallers were theirs and theirs only, and she had no authority whatsoever to reveal them. And that included herself, her story, and her memories. Well, those which didn't regard the whole of Thedas, that was.

They had even worked on a new persona for her, but she wasn't sure she liked the implications.

The powerless daughter of a Tevinter Magister, really? She had frowned so hard when Simmons had reported Melchor's idea that he had feared she would be stuck with that expression forever.

"So, she's in, but she doesn't know how to fight? First time I hear you lot taking such risk" Varric mused, the gears in his head spinning. He knew that the Guild was one that guarded its secrets very well, but he knew even better that the standards to get in were _a lot higher_ than the general mercenary group. To know that someone with zero fighting talent had made it in, was one piece of info.

"She's a special case, and that's all _you_ need to know Tethras" Athras almost growled at the dwarf.

He raised his hands in a sign of peace. It seemed he had found the wall, after all he already knew that it was impossible to get more than that, especially from Athras, who's lips didn't loosen even after a night of drinks.

"Ok, ok, just curious, you know me" he threw there to appease her, letting her know that he wouldn't inquire further. For the moment.

"Yeah, I know ya alright, you sneaky son of a whore" she sneakered, kicking the dwarf to punctuate her statement.

"Hey, easy there! If Bartrand hears you his beard is gonna fall off!" Varric laughed back, not even bothered by her previous kick that he had skilfully avoided.

Athras smirked in reply.

"Like you wouldn't pay to see _that_ happen!" She said, laughing.

Telin observed their interaction with a smile on her lips. The whole scene felt oddly familiar, and she found that she greatly enjoyed the banter.

In the mean time, little pieces of her memory started to file themselves in her head, and she tensed as she felt the dizziness of a new picture forming behind her eyes.

 _Long, dark hallways carved out of stone, no natural light, the stanch of old and death and_ forbidden _impregnating the stale air..._

And there she saw Varric, walking next to a group of people made out of shadows...that was probably because she hadn't met those people yet.

Her memories were then wrapped in a  red fog, and she felt suffocating.

An image burned itself on her mind: It was not very clear, the contours were a bit fuzzed, but she clearly saw a statuette portraying two figures, one upright and the other on its knees, with the head under the first one's arm. Behind them was a halo, but the whole thing shone with a bright red light and seemed to.. _sing_?

The image disappeared suddenly, leaving only darkness behind.

“- seems pretty out of it. Is she alright?”

Varric’s voice cut through the fog in her head, and the darkness started to recede, giving her back her sight. Kirkwall came back in to focus, and Telin found herself blinking several times before she was back completely. 

Next to her Athras was sighing heavily.

“This is getting too old too fast, _telin_. Can’t we just take a fucking walk without you getting all weird?” she complained, throwing a glare her way.

Telin threw one back.

“Yeah, like I can control it…” she scoffed, trying to ignore the glances that Varric was throwing their way.

The puzzle of Varric Tethras was yet to be complete, or so her subconscious seem to think, but Telin had enough information about him to make her suspicious of the dwarf. He knew how to keep his secrets – Bianca was a fast example of one – but also how to use those of others to his advantage, and for the moment she would prefer to remain out of his sights.

She started to walk again, but soon realized she had no idea where the hell they were headed to. Athras huffed from somewhere beside her, and soon they resumed on their way, Varric _still_ trailing behind.

“You are not going to tell me what happened, right? I mean, the truth that is” he quipped, hands buried in the pockets of his open jacket, the most casual expression she had ever seen painted on his face.

Athras only bothered to spare him a sidelong glance.

“The secrets of the guild-“ she began, but Varric cut her off.

“Are the guild’s only, I know. Still, couldn’t hurt to try” he replied, shrugging.

The rest of the way they spent it in relative companionable silence, with Varric and Athras occasionally exchanging some banter she had no clue to what it referred. The made some turns, climbed some stairs, and soon enough the sign of the smithy caught her attention.

The subsequent hour and a half was spent in between getting her measurements taken and Athras arguing with the shopkeeper about the design of the armour: she insisted the clothes should be made accordingly to every other design of the Guild, while the smith insisted he could work some personalized details in the original schematics. Telin, having nothing to say – she already knew close to shit about clothes back home, she _really_ had nothing to say about _leathers_ and _armour_ and god knew what more. Instead, she took advantage of the lull – so to say – to chat with the dwarf while she browsed the weapons. There were an incredible amount of swords, shields, daggers and bows all displayed in plain sight. She was a bit divided about the whole _kill or be killed_ attitude that seemed to be going on in this world; she came from a place where weapons were legal but with a lot of restrictions – which was a good thing – and people were allowed to use them only for self-defence, and even though hers hadn’t been a perfect world and violence was still rampaging anyway, it wasn’t as if people went around visually armed. And, also, no one expected you to know how to _fight_ …

But she wasn’t home, she was in _Thedas_ , and here people got attacked randomly by every kind of lowlife existing, and so she had to train and learn how to fight and defend herself.

It was also a necessary requirement if she ever wanted to get those information from Melchor.

At the thought of the qunari, her mood took a turn for the worse. She was kind of pissed with him, as she would have been with anyone else who withhold information from her. But with him in particular: if he really knew what she had gone through, then he should have known that leaving her in the dark was only going to be detrimental for her mental health as well as to her will to cooperate with him.

“Are you scowling at the weapons?” Varric asked, a chuckle colouring his gruff voice.

Telin turned towards him with a glare, extending her scowl to him.

“Do you always ask so- many questions?” she snapped, drawing out the ‘o’ to mark her annoyance. Varric was startled by her sudden change of attitude, and it showed on his face. Fortunately, Telin immediately snapped out of it, and hurried to apologise.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about some things…” she said, letting go of a heavy sigh.

The dwarf offered a deep chuckle, patting her on her back.

“That’s alright. Now, what about we found you a bow?” he proposed, and Telin’s face lit up. She might not agree or like the way things were in Thedas, but she had always really like the idea of using a bow.

And so, while Athras still rattled on with the smith, she deferred to Varric’s judgement about what weapon would be more suited to a beginner. He wasn’t one for bows, he said, and the big ass crossbow strapped on his back was proof enough, but surely he knew more than her. She had no complaints about the one he chose, the design was very sleek, one long curve made of sturdy wood – and a metal grip – that curled at the sides. It was simple, yes, but elegant, and she could see herself wield it.

Athras passed a positive judgment on the weapon as well – once she had finished fighting over her new attire, that was. But probably only because she had won her battle – though by the look on the smith face, he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

The trio left the shop with a new bow, a quiver complete of an array of arrows, and the necessary straps for Telin to be able to carry the whole assemble.

Varric walked the two women back towards the main entrance of the Guild, chatting happily with both, and Telin was pleased greatly by the absence of any more visions.

When they reached the door, Varric bowed exuberantly, earning a glare from the elf but a satisfying broad smile from the younger girl.

“If you ever want to come and have a drink, you can always find me at the Hanged Man” he then said as a parting, and Telin’s grin only grew wider.

“Ah, yes, _the finest establishment in Kirkwall_ , was it?” she said, letting the quote slip from her lips before she could think twice about it.

Varric’s eyes sparked in recognition, and an intelligible smile bloomed on his features. But he didn’t say anything.

“That’s the one” he replied instead, nodding once and then disappearing around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up we will see more of Melchor, hopefully!  
> Until next time!


	9. To Hit A Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melchor's back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

Another two full weeks went by with the same routine - plus the bow - before Melchor reappeared at the Guild. Telin was sharing some sweet bread with some other junior members she had met during either training or free time, when the qunari strolled in the room with the confidence of one who felt utterly at home. No one missed his entrance, he was nearly impossible to miss with the triumph of white hair and horns and muscles, but the girl was engrossed in conversation and, after sparing him a quick glance, she had failed to notice him as he approached.

Melchor stopped right behind her, his imposing figure cutting her off from the heat of the fireplace that happily burned at her back. The sudden cold, added to the massive shadow that covered the table, had her shivering ever so slightly. She was still kind of pissed with him, so she gingerly ignored his presence until she clearly heard him huff, the puff of breath strong enough to ruffle her hair. At that, she made a show of turning on the bench, and gave him an eyeful of her best glare. Which, apparently, was not scary at all if she had to judge by the unimpressed stony face the qunari was sporting.

She scowled a bit and waited for him to speak up.

"Come with me if you please" he simply said, unfolding his arms and walking away without even batting an eyelash.

Telin got up and mutter a _hello to you, too_ under her breath, loud enough for her companions to hear and snicker. Some distance away, Melchor's ears twitched, hearing her words perfectly, and he, too, smirked. Said manifestation of humour was gone by the time the girl had caught up with him, of course. She walked right next to him, eyes focused in front of her, mouth shut despite the evident questions that bubbled in her head. He was almost impressed by her restraint, a pity that she was practically bouncing on her feet, otherwise a less trained eye wouldn't have been able to pick up on her anxiety.

"I see you've integrated quite well with everyone" he pointed out, shifting his violet gaze from her to the hallway in front of him. He felt her eyes on him for a fraction of a second before he heard her voice, and he had to admit she did sound a bit more confident in herself than when she had arrived.

"Yeah, 's pretty easy to go along with everyone" she said simply, shrugging her small shoulders.

Once again, he glanced at her, and this time he took notice of how the leathers fitted her snugly. It seemed the training was giving its rewards.

He trailed off as soon as he realized where he was going, putting himself in check.

"We might be assassins and mercenaries, but we are quite cordial ones" he replied, a note of humour colouring his words. He was proud of his people, and he never made it a secret. The Guild had much improved since he had _taken over_ from the former leader, and it very much pleased him.

"It doesn't take too much to be better than the competition, really" Telin said drily, recalling what had brain had remembered some days before about the Crows. The memories had come very much scattered, and the vision had been triggered by the most stupid things, but by the end of the last week, she had had so many information about people and places she didn't know that she could fill a book a with them. Unfortunately they were still of no use to understand how she had ended up in Thedas in the first place...

Melchor grimaced ever so slightly at her words, his mind going exactly in the same place as hers.

Yes, she was right. But he had always thought the Kirkwallers as something more than mere spies and assassins; for him they were an instrument to keep the city safe from outside, as well as inside, threats.

"You are correct. Sadly, I would add" he sighed, rubbing at the base of his horns. It always got itchy when something disturbed him.

"So, where are we going, exactly?" She asked after a minute or so of silence. When he looked down at her, she was peering up at him, curiosity written all over her still soft features.

Telin could feel her hopes building, but the more rational part of her was keeping them at bay. It was pointless to get all worked up and then be disappointed, she'd just get angry, and anger was something she had felt enough lately.

"Ah, you'll see. I'm sure Athras hasn't showed you yet" he replied cryptically, shooting a lopsided grin her way. Telin eyed him suspiciously but held her tongue. It wasn't the case to get on the qunari's bad side, despite how much she resented him for leaving her without answers for almost a month.

They kept walking in silence through the Mansion until Telin started to notice new details: they had passed in a part of the house she had yet to see. Soon enough the two of them stopped in front of a double wooden door, and Melchor turned to her, motioning for her to open it.

To her immense pleasure, the door opened to a huge garden. The green of the grass, and trees, and flowers were a welcome respite from the always darkened hallways of the house, constantly lit by candle- and torchlight. The windows weren't many, and Athras had explained to her that they were mainly positioned in the rooms on the external part of the house, that part that was accessible to the public and clients. In the inner corridors and rooms, obtained by modifying the original layout to obtain an easily protectable structure, windows were useless.

And so, the feeling of the breeze on her face, the smell of salt in the air, the blue of the sky, the green of the garden were very welcome to her senses. She stepped outside cheerfully, enjoying the feeling, and felt a bit of her stress wash away. It was only the third time that she could enjoy fresh air since she had arrived: Athras had brought her along one day to go and retrieve her new leathers, and on another occasion she had accompanied Simmons to the civic library, but neither of them had wanted to let her go to the Hanged Man.

Melchor watched her wistfully from the door as she slowly walked around, face up to bask in the sun, limbs stretching and muscles relaxing.

She was the third case he had ever encountered in his life. The third person dragged to Thedas reluctantly, the third to be thrown in a place where she didn't belong. But she was the first one to show any sign of knowledge regarding this world. Simmons reports had told him that her memory, if rightly prodded, could come up with information that even he had no recollection of. Events that might have happened or were to happen, but even she could not place them. She kept saying that her thoughts and memories were all jumbled, and it was nearly impossible for her to make sense of much. She knew _some things_ , though. Athras had told him that she had recognized Varric Tethras almost immediately, which led him to ask what sort of importance the Merchant Prince would have in the future.

He took a deep breath and shifted his weight.

It was pointless to speculate for the moment, better get on with the reason he had brought her there in the first place.

"This way" he called to the girl, who immediately swirled on her feet to look at him as he took a path in between some trees.

Telin jogged behind him, following until the path opened in a clearing large enough to host a shooting ground. Three targets had been hanged to as many trees, and on the edge nearer to her were her bow and quiver. She frowned as they came around to where the weapons were laid.

"And here I thought you brought me here _only_ to enjoy the fresh air" she said, faking her annoyance. Well, almost faking it.

But her jab was worth it as she heard Melchor chuckling beside her. It was an oddly cute sound coming from a man so big!

“We are playing a game, _Telin_.  – he began, and she tried with all her might not to shiver at the way he said her ‘name’ – I’ll answer a question for each arrow you can hit the bull’s eye with” he said, raising an eyebrow as he threw the challenge.

Her pride felt singled out as he looked at her so smugly, with so much confidence she wanted to slap it all away. Was it really so difficult to believe that in only two weeks she had improved enough to be able to hit an unmoving target?

She puffed her chest out, arms crossed over it, and rose her head defiantly.

“I see how that is, ok” she mused out loud.

It wasn’t _exactly_ fair, but it was better than nothing.

Telin stretched her arms, cracked her fingers, and bent to take the bow.

She weighed it in her hands, then took the quiver and threw it across her shoulders.

Melchor moved behind her, sitting down on one of the stone benches that littered the garden. He crossed his arms and just watched.

The girl took a deep breath, parted her feet, positioning them as Athras had instructed her, then she rose the bow and settled her shoulders. When she felt ready, she reached back and retrieved an arrow, knocking it. Then she pulled the string until it was touching her lips. Her eyes focused on the target, the head of the arrow following her; when she was satisfied with the trajectory, having considered both distance and height, she released the string, and the arrow went flying. The second that followed was the longest in her life, and when the arrow _thunk_ -ed in the target, barely hitting the yellow circle of the eye, she had to contain herself to avoid cheering loudly.  

 _In your face, you lummox!_ She shouted in her head before she turned towards Melchor, a smug little grin plastered to her face.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and to her surprise, the man responded with a roaring laughter.

Telin was caught off guard by the reaction, and she couldn’t avoid the mesmerising effect it had on her. She truly couldn’t avert her eyes from the man in front of her, with his head thrown back, long white hair cascading down his shoulders and back, shoulders and chest heaving with laughter.

He was downright gorgeous.

“Ah, good job Telin. Now, unless you only have _one_ very long question for me, I suggest you keep firing those arrows. You have until the sun disappears behind the trees” he said, eyes shining with mischief.

He was surprised by her success, and even if it might have been just the beginner’s luck, he wanted to make her work for it.

Telin’s face literally fell at his words, her enthusiasm over the scene she had just witness all but waned.

“I could fit everything in one question, just try me” she huffed under her breath, turning around towards the target nonetheless.

She was not, by all means, an accomplished archer, not by a long shot, but god be damned before she gave up.

Melchor smiled, satisfied that his taunting had had the desired effect on her, and sat back to witness the very enjoyable view in front of him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be onto something with these two, but who knows!  
> Guys, feedback would be highly appreciated! I'd like to know if this story makes sense to you too!  
> 


	10. Melchor's Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has no one tought you not to touch weird-looking mirrors laying on the roadside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

When the sun had disappeared behind the tree line, about an hour later, Telin had managed to hit the target about thirty times, but the bull’s eye just about three. It didn't matter that the arrows scattered on the ground were many more than the one that had hit the target, what was important was that she now had three questions available to get her answers. They weren’t exactly a lot, she knew, but she was also confident she could fit everything in just that. A lot of doubts were just redundant, after all.

That very night the qunari extended her an invite to join him for dinner, so that she could ask all the questions she had earned. She was a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, and not only because she was still a bit intimidated by him or because he was way too good looking for her too feel completely comfortable next to, but she was afraid he would tell her that there was no way back home. Until that very moment she had held close that silver of hope, pushing out the very thought that her predicament was final. It was the only thing she could to avoid descending into a constant panic; without that very barrier in her mind, she would have crumbled weeks ago.

No, it wasn't good to follow that trail of thoughts, she told herself as she hung her bow on the wall of her room and put the quiver back in the closet. She looked back to her bad, eyeing the dress that rested on it. Simmons had dropped it there about ten minutes before, saying that Melchor was requesting her presence for dinner back in his private quarters. A smirk had accompanied the message, and Telin had gone scarlet at the implications. The man was having way too much fun at her expenses! And only because, one day while they were going through all the races in Thedas, she had let slip that she found the qunari extremely attractive. _Qunari_ as in _the whole race_ , but Simmons had took it the way he wanted.

And now there she was, with a _dress_.

She glared at the piece of clothing, her mind setting on a decision.

She wasn't a doll to play dress up with, and she was going to make it known to the leader of The Kirkwallers. With little to no ceremony she grabbed the change of clothes she had, the leather pants and red tunic from the first day, the necessities to clean herself, and walked out the door towards the baths. After a quick scrub to take off the sweat of the previous exercise, she dressed in her simple outfit, put the boots on, and made for the common room. Simmons had told her to go to him before dinner, and that he would show her the way to Melchor's rooms.

And so she did, moving with confidence through the people occupying the tables waiting for dinner, drinking and laughing merrily, until she spotted the man she was looking for.

Simmons was taller than the average man, she had noticed, with his hundred and ninety centimetres, broad shoulders and a gentle face. He had very distinctive scruffy vibe to his persona, which only made him more endearing and fluffy to look at. His head was a mess of brownish tangled hair, his face sported two big brown gentle eyes and a wide smile always on his lips. He reminded her of chocolate, warm and brown and reassuring.

"Hey" she greeted him. Sitting down in front of him.

Simmons greeted her back with a characteristic warm smile, smile that stalled the moment his eyes caught sight of her clothes, making him frown.

"Where is your dress?" He asked instead.

"Exactly where you left it. I'm not going to _dress up_ just to stay inside, Simmons" she replied, grimacing.

 _I'm making a statement, here,_ she mused to herself.

"Well, that’s a pity. Melchor had bought it for you _specifically_ " he said, cheekily, throwing her a side glance. She was startled by the confession, and her determination wavered a bit, her ego taking up a little more space at the notion.

 _No, get a grip on yourself! I'm not a doll, if I want to buy a dress I'll do it on my own!_ She tried to tell herself, knowing too well that even that seemingly un-harmful gesture was a way to buy her.

She scoffed.

"Dude, I'm not _that_ cheap. He will have to try harder" she proclaimed, nodding to her self-assurance.

Simmons chuckled and rose from his seat.                                                         

"I'll let him know" he said, still laughing, and offered her a hand.

Telin took it, following him to the back of the room, where a single door opened in a very good lit hallway. They chitchatted of minor things as they walked, but soon enough they reached their destination. Simmons knocked twice on the door, and Melchor's voice came from the other side, allowing access. He opened it for Telin, holding it so that she could step inside.

As she entered, she noticed immediately the table in the centre of the room, already dressed for dinner for two, then her eyes moved to one side where a fireplace was lit, the moonlight shining in through the three windows that opened in the walls.

_Windows! How nice!_

On the other side, right in front of the door, there was a wall, clearly added as an afterthought, that seemed to divide the room from where the night area was.

Melchor was seated in front of the fire, sprawled on a huge armchair big enough to accommodate him in all his size. He turned when he heard the door open, and frowned when he noticed Telin's plain clothes.

"Why isn't she wearing my dress?" He asked, not to her but to Simmons.

The man shrugged and spread his arms, displaying his innocence.

"I delivered it, she refused to wear it" he answered simply.

Telin straighten her shoulders and crossed her arms, looking defiantly at the qunari, daring him to say something about it.

His violet eyes sharpened as they settled on her, but his features immediately turned to a disappointed expression.

"But it was pretty" he whined, sighing and raising from the chair. He walked up to her, stopping short of invading her personal space, and looked down at her with a down turned mouth.

Was he pouting, _again_?

"These clothes suit me just fine;” she pointed out, reciprocating the look, “next time you want to buy my trust, try a book" she quipped, taking a side step around him towards one of the seats.

She settled in one of the chairs and crossed her legs, shooting him a self-satisfied look, completed of a smug smile.

"Duly noted" he replied, a dry smile on his lips.

Simmons hid a smile of his own; it looked like this time Melchor wouldn't be able to reach his goals by using only his charms, _how refreshing_.

"I'll send word to the kitchen that you are ready to take your meal" he said at last, giving a nod and then disappearing behind the closing doors.

Left alone, Telin felt a bit of her newfound confidence slip through her fingers. One thing was to play bold, another to be serious. She usually had a pretty good poker face, mastered over the years as she battled with her anxiety, but that wouldn't prevent her brain from going blank.

Silence settled itself snugly in the room, broken only by the popping of the wood burning in the fireplace.

Melchor followed her example, taking his place in front of her, but still he said nothing. He was impressed by her; once again she had showed him that, despite everything she'd gone through in so little time, she was determined to make it. She had refused to wear the dress he had bought for her, telling him that she was not so easily bought off, she had rose to the challenge to get her answers, and she had kept her cool around him. He knew he was unnerving to be around, especially to the people who were not used to work or live with qunari, but he was satisfied by her overall reaction to him. Maybe it was partially due to her memories that she could look him in the eyes that easily, maybe it was just how she was, but Melchor was pleased nonetheless.

"So, have you thought about what to ask me?" He finally said, reaching towards the pitcher of wine that rested in the middle of the table. She observed his movements and hurried to put a hand over her glass, shaking her head.

He frowned.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk, you know" he pointed out, slightly offended.

"I know, I just don't like wine" she said matter-of-factly.           

"I see, I'll have some ale brought over then" he proposed, obtaining a thankful nod in return.

"Anyway, I did think about what I want to know. I also considered the option of not using all three questions" she proceeded to tell him, lacing her fingers together under her chin, her face a mixture of thoughtfulness and determination.

"And what of those you won't use, then?"

She smiled.

"I'll keep 'em for a time when I'll need information that you'd normally won't give up” she replied sweetly. “At least you’ll be bound by your own word, and won’t be able to refuse" she chuckled at the dumbfounded look that passed on his face.

"It seems you are better at this line of work than you previously stated. Fine, I agree to your proposition. Go ahead"

Telin pocketed her victory and immediately shifted to the one question she wanted to ask above all else.

"First of all, I think you need to tell me what you know about my... _predicament_ " she said, raising her eyebrows at the simplistic word she had used to describe her situation.  “You said you know what happened to me, so what is it?”

Melchor nodded.

"Very well. Before you, I came in contact with other two people who went through the same thing. It all started with a mirror, correct?” he asked, and at her assent he continued. “Those mirrors are called _Eluvians_ , they are – well, _were_ \- used by the ancient elves to travel from place to place, covering distances that span the length of their whole Empire. I don't know what you remember of Thedas or what Simmons has told you, but during ancient Arlathan, the Veil between our world and the Fade did not exist, and the elves travelled freely across our world and the spirits'. I have no idea what your world is like or where is it in the dimensional plane, but sometimes Eluvians are found and activated, forcing the person that activates one to be transported to Thedas, the place where everyone always returned. You must have had something that tied you to this world, otherwise the mirror would have never activated" he explained, much to her increasing astonishment.

Her mind remembered the Eluvians, remembered why were they built, how they were used, and how most of them were now destroyed, broken, or worse, _tainted_.

She kid of remembered that the Elves used them to travel, mingling themselves in the very essence of the Fade, but the canonical story had never said anything about them luring unsuspecting individuals to Thedas…

 _Wait. What_ canonical story _?_

Her brain immediately came to a halt. Realizing its own Freudian lapse, it brought up the barriers that had been raised around her memories even stronger than before, and Telin found herself colliding face-first into them as she tried to run after the stray thought.

But whatever string of information her brain had momentarily lost control over, it seemed it had slipped back inside the fortified walls, and she was left outside, slowly going insane trying to get it back.

 _No, I_ need _to know! Please!_

She shut her eyes tight, trying to chase after those pieces of memories that were frantically trying to escape her grasp. She run and run inside her own mind, reaching out, looking, searching desperately, until her head started to ache and pound.

She heard herself scream inside her own head, trying to ignore the pain. She stretched her consciousness, breaking down walls and barriers, breathlessly chasing after what she wanted, what she _needed_ so desperately! She tried, and tried, broke, and broke, until the flood came.

And there was only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm set guys, I'll build this ship.  
> Wheter it is going to float or sink, well, I know, you just have to keep reading!


	11. The Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not very helpful to know things when you don't know how you know them... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE!   
> As of 19/11, this chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

Castle Cousland stood proud and stoic and immovable against the blue of the sky and the blue of the raging sea. Silence surrounded all things, thick and impregnable, muffling every sound.

At a second glance, long, thick columns of smoke could be seen rising from the walls of the Castle, and pretty soon the sounds boomed to life. There was steel on steel, people crying, screaming, running; there were evil laughter, compliments of a job well done, satisfaction.

And then there were two people running away, both covered in blood, tears streaming down the woman’s face, her hands clutched around two deadly daggers, a sword strapped to her back. Behind them a huge dog was keeping the pace, always a step behind his mistress, blood covering his muzzle and fur, eyes sharp in the darkness of the night.

As the night surrendered its throne to daylight, the high cliffs of the Storm Coast left the place to endless fields and low hills, and the hills to thick, dark, forests, with trees intermingled with broken and abandoned constrictions, each older than the last as the three marched inside the Wilds.

Ostagar stood in all its ruined splendour, only to be soon overrun by blood, fear and desperation.

Up on the Tower of Ishal the woman, bloody dagger and sword up to parry, stood next to another man, with dirty blond hair and a sword and shield in hand, fighting an Ogre.

A second later those two were marching through the woods, guided by a woman. A Witch. _The_ Witch.

Then Lothering appeared, with all its misery in full display.

Refugees, deserters, a Chantry Lay Sister, a Quanri guilty of slaughter…more blood, death, desperation.

The dirt beaten roads left their place to the Imperial Highway, where two dwarf were trying to tidy up their cart.

And then Redcliff, the un-dead , Connor, the Circle…

She saw Wynn healing a particularly nasty wound on Alistair’s side, Elissa fretting nearby as she watched the mage work. Next came Zevran, the cheeky smile and easy jokes to cover up for his desperation, and then they were off again. She saw the Wardens take the ashes from Andraste’s Urn, saw the dragon lay slain at the top of the mountain. Snow and rock gave immediately way to soft hills and thick forests, the howling of a pack of wolf howling in the distance.  She felt, more than saw, the desperation and oppressing darkness of the Deep Roads, the stench of death and decay, the imposing presence of the Archdemon. Then the darkness was replaced by hope, followed by despair, guilt, relief….

And then – peace.

 

 

The world came back into focus with a start. Suddenly, she was no longer observing over the Warden’s shoulders as the entirety of Ferelden celebrated the end of the Blight and its knew rulers, but her eyes popped open to an unfamiliar cieling. She groaned in pain as she tried to move, her head pounding mercilessly at the smallest of shifts.

“Easy there” a voice prompted softly next to her.

Ignoring the massive headache that was now engulfing her whole head and shoulders, she followed the sound, and her green eyes soon met violet ones filled with concern.

“You blacked out on me there for a while. How are you feeling?” Melchor asked, trying to gauge her state just by looking at her.

_Ah, yes. Right…_

He watched her as her eyes scrunched closed, a grimace puling the lines of her face in a tight expressions as bitterness filled her features.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a car. _Again_ ” she replied, her voice gruff and groggy. She coughed a couple times when her throat started to itch in response, grimacing even harder as the motion made her headache even worse.

_Fucking migraines…_

“What’s a _‘car’_?” the qunari immediately questioned, as he was unfamiliar with the term.

“What d’ya mean ‘ _what’s a car_ ’? A car’s a car” she muttered as she tried to sit up.

A big hand settled itself on her lower back almost instantly, helping her to straighten up. The heat of the touch lingered even when the hand moved away to stuff pillows behind her back, but Telin removed the thought right away.

“Do you know where you are? Who am I?” he asked then, worried that whatever episode she just went through could have somehow compromised her recent memories. It would suck to go over it all for a second time…

“Yeah, I’m in blasted Thedas, I am! For fuck’s sake!” she swore in response to the memories that quickly run through her mind.

“Fuck, is this for real? How can it be real!” she went on, unconcerned in the least by her steadily increasing tone.

At this point she was downright yelling, her hands pulling at her hair in a desperate attempt to make it all go away.

Melchor flinched at her words, taken aback by her vehemence and the obvious panic attack that she was suffering. His hands quickly lit up with a soft blue light, and he moved them over her head to try and sooth both the panic and the pain she seemed to be suffering.

As the cool, refreshing touch of healing magic dispersed from her head to her toes, Telin screams gradually died down, turning instead in to barely audible sobs.

Melchor watched as tears started to streak her cheeks, and without even thinking about it, he got up and on the bed, spreading his arms as he engulfed the girl in a hug.

If she was taken aback by his actions, she didn’t show; instead she grabbed at the clothing over his broad shoulders and buried her head in the crook of his neck, long white hair imprisoned in her grip. She hanged on him as she cried, her hands gripping as hard as if he was her lifeline, as if he would disappeared were she to let go of him.

But as the calming flow of healing magic travelled through her body from Melchor’s hands on her back, Telin could slowly feel the darkness of panic receding from her mind; her lungs stopped their frantic rhythm, slowing down to a more normal breathing, and tears stopped falling from her eyes. When she felt clear-minded enough, she let go of the qunari, gently pushing herself away from him. Melchor got the hint, and his hands returned by his sides, letting go of the girl. When he tempted a glance her way, she was very intently staring at the covers, her eyes downcast and seemingly very far away.

“Hey, talk to me?” he asked, an arm outstretching to lift her chin up and towards him. When his eyes met hers, he was a bit startled to see them – aside from the red puffiness of having just cried – so full of emotions; it was impossible for him to even begin to separate one from the other as they danced and swirled inside the forest green of her eyes, communicating to the outside world whatever emotional overload she was feeling inside.

“I remember all of it…” she began, words no more louder than a whisper in the wind. “The Blight, the desperation, the fear…” she said as her eyes finally entirely focused on his face.

Telin saw the lines of understanding draw themselves in his features, a somewhat lingering sadness in his whole being.

“Yes, it’s been a year since Ostagar. News has it that the Wardens defeated the Archdemon” Melchor revealed as a piece of the puzzle fell in to place.

“I see. Then by now Ferelden will finally have received the sovereigns it deserves; a most powerful union between a Theirin and a Cousland, the two most powerful families finally united both for love and duty” she mumbled more to herself than anything as her brain worked the elements together to get a clearer picture of the story. She was basically reciting facts out of a history book.

The qunari’s ears perked up immediately, and his whole face sharpened, body tense and on the lookout.

“How do you know that?” he asked, obtaining a confused noise in response from the girl. “There are no news about a marriage coming out of Denerim” he went on, his voice echoing her own confusion and bewilderment.

 _Good question_ , she mused sourly.

“Honestly? I have no idea..” Telin confessed, a shaky breath living her lips. “I just _have_ all these information in my head, it’s like reading a book or watching a movie for the hundredth time..” she trailed off.

The hulking man seated next to her gave her a sidelong glance, but ultimately decided not to question her about her choice of metaphor.

Instead, he took a calculating second to think it over, the gears under his horns already working on how to exploit this newfound resource he had been presented with. He felt a little guilty at the prospect of downright using the girl so blatantly, but Thedas was a dangerous place to live in, and every edge could be a life-saver.

“Well, I’ll have my informants stay on edge for any such piece of info out of the Capital, then; in the mean time, you need to keep working with Athras and Simmons. It won’t take long now.” Melchor finally spoke up, catching Telin’s eyes he said that. The frown between her eyes spoke for her before she could even open her mouth.

“ _It won’t take long_ for what?” she asked, wariness colouring every note of her voice.

“You’ve been here a month now. Most new recruits get their first assignment at about the third month in, so you better prepare.” Melchor replied cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction by the way her muscles went lax under her skin and her face turned to stone, leaving behind nothing.

Only her eyes were a reliable tell for her inner turmoil.

“That’s right. I’m not here on vacation, after all.”

Her quiet acceptance was a bit of a punch in the gut, but he could do nothing if not nod in agreement to her statement.

“Better go to bed then. I’m sure Athras will be kicking me awake before dawn, anyway” Telin sighed, forcing a small smile on her lips as she pried herself from the covers.

“Are you sure you’re ok? We haven’t even eaten” Melchor said, his head nodding slightly towards the table where their dinner laid cold. Telin grimaced slightly as her stomach made a noise of protest to the lack of food, but the rest of her body was telling her that eating was not a good idea.

“That’s alright, I’m not quite hungry” she said, lying through her teeth while she made a show of standing and stretching her limbs.

“I’ll – see you tomorrow” she finally said as she placed a hand on the handle and opened the door.

Melchor watched her leave his room, a sense of dread latching itself in the pit of his stomach as her back disappeared behind the closing door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the short side with this chapter, but this concludes the prologue of the story.  
> From here on, we are going to jump in the more canonic parts of DA II (but not /too/ canonic, this is still pretty much an AU), with a nice soak in the Hawke's pool ;)  
> Stay tuned :)


	12. The Stolen Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-- Six Months Later --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count has doubled, the story is picking up, old friends make their appearances.  
> I think we are pretty much ready to go *thumbs up*
> 
> PLEASE NOTE!  
> This chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

From that eventful night, six months went by rather quickly, and Telin showed signs of improvement with each day. At the two months mark, she had finally mastered both reading and writing (despite the fact that Athras kept referring to her handwriting as the result of a nug having a seizure); at three months in her training, she was able to headshot a moving target (which earned her a week of free drinks from the elf after she lost the bet); at four she was able to stalk a target through the city without getting caught – or lost. That had been her real first assignment, but Telin preferred to refer to it as a trial run since both Athras and Simmons had followed her the whole time. At five, she had become a proficient member of the Kirkwall society, able to blend in with the uppers thanks to her studied background, as well as roam with the downers. Simmons was weirdly proud of her ability to remember almost all the names of the most important of people and families across Thedas. At the clocking of the sixth, she was officially ready to go on a solo mission.

Simmons had told her he had nothing more to teach her, and Athras had shared everything she could about archery – plus a few trick with daggers in case she found herself too close to the melee.

Melchor, on his part, had kept a close eye on her, always making sure to check up on her progresses, buying her the books she had oh-so-adamantly demanded in exchange for her trust. He felt kind of liberated to see her blossom into her new position, but at the same time worried for her mental health. It was traumatic enough to lose your home, but losing a whole world? He couldn’t even begin to comprehend. That silver of dread that had settled in his stomach had never left him in those six month, growing even stronger when news of the new King and Queen had started to trickle in from Ferelden; she had been right. On all of it.

Loghain was dead, killed in a duel.

The Warden had received the aid they needed, and now sat squarely upon the Thrones of Ferelden.

King Alistair Theirin and Queen Elissa Cousland, a match to behold.

Telin had been most relieved to hear that, the news confirming that she might not be going crazy after all. Not that it disregarded the notion completely, of course, but it was a step forward, especially since no new visions of that magnitude came to her following the one.

Sometimes she would come across something or someone that triggered her brain, but it was always just snippets of pictures or pieces of conversation that made no sense by themselves.

At present, what had her slightly curious but mildly on edge, was that her mind seemed to be triggered more often than not when she was around a very specific dwarf.

Telin had bumped into him quite some times while out in the city, and at some point her handlers had conceded her the chance to swing by the Hanged Man – which was, _very surprisingly_ , exactly the same as she had seen it in her mind – to have a drink with Varric. By now the dwarf had grown accustomed to her seemingly harmless moments of blanking out, but had never tried to pry, for which she was grateful since it would have been difficult for her to explain that she was kind of probably seeing his life unfold in front of her eyes. Yeah, that would certainly make for some uncomfortably awkward conversation.

Sadly, she hadn’t got much time to figure out what was of Varric Tethras that seem to tickle her mind, because her training soon got _very intense_ , leaving her no time to go play with the dwarf. It had been three months since she had seen him, all her time spent out in the field working with Athras (and sometimes Melchor, which still unnerved her, but that was an entirely different story altogether), leaving her with barely any personal time that she spent either sleeping, writing on her new journal, and bathing.

But now, freedom was afoot.

The qunari had called her in his office – because yes, he even had a office, it turned out – along with her handlers, and announced her that she was to go off solo.

“There are some goods we’ve been hired to recover; problem is, we don’t know which warehouse they’ve stored them in. You need to get that information by the Harbourmaster, he’ll have the papers with all the records of the shipments. How you manage to get that info is up to you, Telin. You have to look for this specific seal, here. Once you’ve located the warehouse, get in and recover the goods. Avoid looking inside the cache, if you can. Our clients appreciate their privacy.” Melchor told her, handing over a piece of parchment on which a seal was drawn in charcoal.

Telin hoped colours weren’t an essential part to tell it apart from another.

“How much time do I have?” she asked after folding the sheet and securing it in one of her armour’s pockets.

“Three days. After that, the goods will be shipped out” he replied.

Telin nodded.

“Off you go, then. I’ll be waiting” he exhorted her, a small, proud, smile tugging at his lips.

 

The whole way from the Hideout to the Dock’s, Telin walked with a sense of dread chained to her feet. Self doubt was a hard bitch to deal with, even after six month of hard training in preparation for that very moment. All other members of the Guild had had _years_ in the business, had been born in Thedas, had learnt how to fight probably since they were way younger than she was. And even though, there she was, with her bow strapped to her back along with the quiver, wearing hard leather armour and a glowing tattoo on her forearm, marking her as an active member of the most famous – and probably _most powerful_ guild in the whole city-state.

 _Deep breaths, Telin, deep breaths_.

As she moved lazily through the streets of the city, careful not to seem on a rush or to give off the wrong impression with her weapons strapped to her back, Telin imposed her mind to conjure what she remembered of the docks. She had passed through on more than one occasion with Athras, and the woman had taken care to instruct her about every nook and cranny of the place; now all she had to do, was remembering them.

The Docks came into view as she stepped down the last set of stairs; the banks stretched for hundred of meters, with ships parked all over. People were running _everywhere_ , and a ruckus of voices and other sounds overshadowed each other in the general organized chaos.

The first thing she noticed besides the crowds, was the acrid smell of rotting fish and salty waters, a mix that acutely reminded her that she was a long way from home.

With one last sweep across the entrance to the Docks, Telin side stepped in the shadows, melting together with the walls and people moving about.

She bit her lower lip as she studied the people, torturing the skin in an attempt to concentrate. This was full rush hour, and she was reminded of the only one other time she had been overwhelmed by the number of people in one place, though where or when escaped her.

More memories that had slipped away. She sighed. It was getting more and more difficult to remember things from home, as time went by. In the six months that had passed since her arrival, she had started to write down whatever she could recall, and on some occasions she had even spent nights with Melchor, telling him things in hope that, if she ever forgot them, he could remember them for her.

On some days the nostalgia was too much, and Telin could physically feel the pain that came with the separation, with the knowledge that she would never know what had happened to her and her world. On those days, Athras seemed to take extra care in giving her the most intense training that she could, and Telin was grateful to stop thinking further than her bow. She still couldn't say if she had warmed up a bit to the elf, or if Athras simply liked to beat her with a stick, but whatever the case, Telin could work with it.

A shout from somewhere below caught her attention, and her eyes skimmed over the crowd to identify the source of the extra loudness; a man dressed in finery was screaming at a young boy, his elven ears red with shame. Telin grimaced at the scene, and when she saw the man raise his hand to strike the boy, her body reacted faster than her mind; she draw her bow, knocked an arrow, and let it loose directly at the feet of the asshole, who yelped loud enough for the whole docks to hear him. She smirked in self-satisfaction as she slipped away in the shadows.

By the time the man had found enough composure to look for the would-be-assassin, Telin was long gone.

With quick steps she veered inside the opening on the right side of the stairs, where she knew the Harbormaster had his things sat up. He was the man she needed, but she was not so foolish to believe he would give her the information easily or free of charge. She was going to need something to bribe him with. Money was out of the question, she had very little to her name - the Guild had taken care of basically anything she could need up until now - and she was so not going to invest it in an unsafe bet like that one. There weren’t really many other alternatives, but she was going to try nonetheless. If worst came to worst, she could always sneak in at night and steal what she needed.

With a confidence she wasn’t really feeling, she strolled out of the shadow, heading towards two men standing by a table.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Harbormaster, could you point me in the right direction?” she asked once she was in their sight, making sure that they were looking at her.

“You found him already, lass. What can I help you with?” the man with the finer clothes replied, arms crossed over his chest. His words were far more polite than his stance, for sure. The other man barely spared her a glance before returning to his work.

“My boss sent me to retrieve a package, said it came in with an Orlesian Port Authority Seal. Problem is, I don’t know which warehouse it’s stored in. I was told you were the man to ask, Serrah” she explained, taking extra care in avoiding any mention of the Guild.

Melchor hadn’t said anything about secrecy, but she thought that a certain level of discretion was probably needed; maybe not for the Guild itself, but for the client that had hired them.

“Aye, and so I am. But what tells me that you’re not just some common thief, uh?” the Master rebuked, his pose getting even more defensive if possible.

“I assure you Serrah, I’m no thief. If I were, I would have gotten the information I needed _without_ coming through you” Telin argued, a soft smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

This definitely wasn’t like home, where a young girl could bat her eyelashes a couple times and obtain what she needed. Also, being armored and armed probably didn’t help the whole _harmless little girl_ image.

“That may be true, but you know what lass? I think I forgot what you wanted” he quipped, smirking in satisfaction at his _oh-so-clever_ tactic.

Telin scowled internally, her polite façade unmoving.

So that was it, it seemed.

“A package with an Orlesian Port Authority Seal, Serrah. Is the sun affecting you? Maybe you should take a break if you forget things so easily” she replied cheekily, giving off a vibe of fake innocence.

 _Two can play at this game_ , she scoffed to herself.

“Don’t be cheeky with me _brat_ , I ain’t got time to waste” the Harbormaster scoffed at her, turning to leave at her refusal to give in to his request.

Telin’s hand darted to his forearm, grabbing it tightly.

When the man turned to glare at her, she simply smiled.

“That makes two of us. I have a job to do, and no time to play games. Now, you can either give me the information I need, or I can put a knife in your kidney and you’ll be dead before you can scream. What will it be?” Telin droned impassively, the smile unwavering on her lips.

This man was making her understand why Athras was always so bitter and violent around people, and she wasn’t even an elf.

“You wouldn’t dare in broad daylight!” he hissed at her, the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead a dead giveaway to his discomfort.

Good, at least he was taking her seriously.

“Oh, I can be gone before you hit the ground. Want to try me?”

He glared down at her, opening his mouth to say something, and then stilled. His eyes travelled from her face to his side, where her other hand was firmly pressing a small, sharp, knife right over his right kidney. When his eyes returned to hers, she arched her eyebrows suggestively.

“Fine!” he snapped, tugging at his harm to get away from her. He stumbled a bit backwards, then moved quickly to the table to retrieve the papers.

“Here, take the blasted thing! It ain’t worth dying for!” he said, shoving the piece of paper in her hands.

“Thank you, Serrah. You were most helpful” Telin replied, bowing mockingly before leaving.

Before the Harbormaster could change his mind, she slipped once more in the shadows, where she  proceeded to have a major panic attack.

Her hands were shaking, clutching at the paper like a life line; she could feel cold sweat drip down her back despite the thick humid air, and she had to try hard not to vomit the contents of her stomach.

She had almost killed a man.

_I almost killed a man!_

God, how could the people of this world do this so casually? It was terrifying to bluff like that, and even more so when you were bluffing on another person’s life. She wasn’t sure she could get used to it…

_You’ll have to. No time for a conscience when someone’s trying to put a blade through you._

Athras voice echoed in her brain, and Telin released her tension in one long, shaky, breath. She was right. But the longer she could avoid killing another person, the better it was.

When she was sure she wouldn’t throw up, and her hands had stopped shaking frantically, she looked at the piece of paper now all crumpled.

She was still a bit rusty with her reading, but at least the meaning came quite easily; and if she wasn’t mistaken, her cargo was stored in a Woodrow’s Warehouse to the east.

 

Finding the Warehouse turned out be easier than expected; getting in, though, that was gonna require some planning. Guards were posted in front of the door; three armed men that looked bored enough to be dangerous. No visible second entrance that she could see at first glance.

Now, she could either go look for one, or wait out the guards –frontal approach was out of discussion.

She mused on it for a while as she rested casually, with her back on a wall across from the guarded entrance, and then came to the conclusion that she could do both; if there was no other way in, then she’d wait for nightfall and sneak in past the guards.

She pushed herself away from the crumbling wall, dusted her leathers, and inconspicuously strolled away. From the front there was no way of telling if the building connected to the adjoined ones, so Telin decided for the quickest route: get up on the roof and look down on the other side. Now, that required some tactfulness, and more importantly, a way up.

Making sure her expression remained as neutral as possible, she let her eyes roam the rooftops as she descended the stairs to the last stretch of the docks, where a ship was waiting to sail for the Gallows. Nasty place, that one. A little shudder run down her spine at the memory of what she had learned about it, and she reminded herself that she was in no rush to go and visit.

When her feet touched the ground, her eyes fell on a narrow dead end next to another warehouse.

 _Jackpot_.

She tried to look as nonchalant as possible as she headed towards the dank alley, sparing just a quick glance to her back once she was safely hidden.

No one seemed to have taken notice of her or her intentions, which was exactly what she wanted.

She studied the haggard wall for a few seconds, spotting a couple good perches she could use to climb up.

Oh, if only her six month earlier self could have been there to see her now! She would have _never_ been able to do any of that, then!

A rush of adrenaline pumped in her veins, and before she could even process it, she was crouching on top of the first building. She looked around again, barely suppressing her surprise when she found a wooden ladder abandoned next to her.

Someone must have used it to make some repairs, and lucky her, had left it there.

Speed was key in not being noticed, so she recovered the ladder and propped it against the wall. It didn’t go all the way up to the roof, but just above its end was a window.

 _How nice._ _It’s like the universe it’s trying to smooth things out for me_ , she pondered amusedly as she started to climb up, two rungs at a time. When she reached the end, she gave herself a push and jumped up to grab the windowsill, pulling herself up. She repeated the motion to reach the upper one, and then once again to get to the roof’s edge.

 _Maybe I should use_ Auditore _as a surname_ , she mused with a chuckle as she climbed up; when she almost lost her footing, she went white as a ghost.

_Or maybe I should just shut up…_

Once she was safely on the flat surface of the roof, she moved quickly to her left, glancing down to make sure she was standing over the right one. She got a glimpse of the guards, so she turned and headed for the opposite direction. Where the roof ended, she could see water; if the building finished in the sea, she was without a way in. Carefully, she crouched down near the edge and looked down; good thing she wasn’t _that_ afraid of heights anymore, uh? But her sacrifices were rewarded when she spotted a wooden deck peek out from the building, meaning there effectively was a secondary way in other than the main door.

As she got up, calculating her odds at landing on the wooden platform instead that in the water, the sound of a skirmish reached her ears.

Was someone fighting _inside_?

 _Not good. Definitely_ not good _!_ She yelled inside her head, all caution thrown to the wind in a single moment.

There was no telling that whoever was fighting wasn’t there looking for the same thing she was, or, alternatively, wouldn’t destroy her target in their skirmish. She _had_ to hurry!

 A stream of curses rushed out of her mouth as she lowered herself from the roof, praying to whatever entity was out there that she landed right.

She closed her eyes, took a deep, _deep_ , breath, and let go of the edge.

The noise of her fall – broken by the pier, fortunately, and not the water – attracted the attention of whoever was inside.

The fight stilled for a moment, all that Telin needed to recover herself, but all eyes turned towards the new intruder.

“ _Riddle_?!” a voice asked in disbelief, and her eyes immediately snapped to the source, where she found a familiar dwarf with strawberry blond hair firing a crossbow.

“ _Varric_?!” Telin asked with the same amount of stupor, mouth hanging open in shock.

“You mind, Varric? We kind of are in the middle of something, here!” another voice yelled from a bit further inside, and the girl’s attention immediately zeroed on the new figure.

Jet black hair tied in a untidy ponytail, crystal blue eyes and a splatter of red on the nose.

A staff in hand, magic pooling on the fingertips.

“Hawke?” the word left her lips before she could even process it, and her brain instantly reacted.

The world went black for a moment, a massive amount of images and information piling up in her head as a lock came undone, and when it came back into focus, she was already fainting.


	13. (Un)Predictable Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Sinead Hawke, mage extraordinaire who's definitely /not/ intimidated by little girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we meet the Hawke of the moment!  
> Sinead is one of my fav Hawkes, and she'll be the death of Telin, just wait!  
> There's also some awkward fluff ahead ;)
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE NOTE!  
> This chapter has been corrected and tweaked!

The moment Telin regained consciousness, she came to with a gasp, her lungs filling with air with shocking eagerness. She coughed and coughed, her throat burning as if she had drowned in liquid fire, until her body seemed satisfied by the quantity of oxygen received and gave her a reprise. The burning started to fade gradually, but Telin kept taking quick breaths for several more minutes.

 _What the fuck did just happen?!_ She thought frantically as she looked around. She was in a room she was familiar with, both by exposition and memory, but she had no recollection of getting there whatsoever. The last thing she remembered was getting in the warehouse and finding Varric and-

The information started to cascade on her head like a river, but this time her brain seemed to be ready to accommodate it all. Pieces of visions and conversation filed in, each settling in a precise spot, going to complete a picture or a dialogue, until everything was neatly stored in her head.

It was still a shock nonetheless, and Telin found herself basically petrified on the bed, eyes lost somewhere far, far away. Suddenly, all the vision she had experienced in Varric’s presence made sense, every hole had been filled, every piece of the puzzle had fallen in the right place. And just like that, she had the whole story in the palms of her hands.

She could see _everything_ that was going to happen to Hawke and Kirkwall, right up until Meredith’s _death_.

_Shit._

_Shit, shit, shit!_

And now what? What could she do?

Everything she knew about could change just because of her very presence in their world; but was that going to be a good or a bad thing?

But what had her more on edge was the fact that in all her memories, there had been no mention of the Kirkwallers. None whatsoever. What did that mean?

 _The storyline has already been changed_ , a voice in her head supplied helpfully, and Telin cringed.

She needed to go see Melchor.

_Melchor…fuck! I didn’t finish the job!_

Too many things to think over, too little time.

Judging by the light that was streaming in from the solitary window on the wall, it was already past sundown. She needed to return back to the Guild; maybe she could stall, saying that she would return to the docks the day after to finish the job…but how to hide a failure from a group of trained liars? She’d never be able to pull it off.

A knock on the door caught her attention, and she immediately jumped to her feet, noticing for the first time that she was without her armour; someone must have removed it when she’d been unconscious.

“Riddle are you awake? I heard some noise” Varric voice asked from outside, and Telin hurried to the door.

She opened it, and the dwarf looked up at her with a smile.

“Ah, I see you are in one piece. Feeling better?” he went on, walking inside as she moved to the side to let him in.

“Yeah, just a bit of a headache. Nothing major” she replied, shrugging, as she followed him to the table. Varric took his usual place at the head, and Telin sat down on his right.

“You really scared the shit out of me when you passed out, you know. What were you even doing in that warehouse?” he inquired casually, his stance as relaxed as he could make it. In the past months he had become acquainted with the strange girl, and had learned never to ask direct questions when she was involved; but this one was too good to pass up. He had to know what was going on.

“Guild business, of course. Business that you guys probably ruined, now” she breathed out, a bit exasperate at the realisation that Hawke’s little charade had probably cost her the package. If it hadn’t been destroyed in the skirmish, it certainly would have been relocated by now.

“Hey, now. Let’s not be hasty, alright? We, too, were there on business” he offered, hands held up in a show of innocence.

Telin arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Then you lack finesse, obviously. Or no one has taught your friend the finer points of a stealthy approach” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“A bit of column A, a bit of column B” Varric said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “But listen, if you tell me what it was that you were after, maybe I can still help you find it. We basically looted the whole place” he went on, and he was satisfied to see a little spark of interest in the girl’s eyes.

Telin mulled it over for a bit, coming to the conclusion that, even though she was not sure she could completely trust the dwarf with the Guild’s business, her brain seemed inclined to give him a chance. There was also nothing in her memories that could tell her not to.

“Fine. But just because this is my first job and I don’t want to flop it” she relented, biting her tongue and swallowing the remark about her failure kind of being _their fault_.

“Shoot then”

“I was told to retrieve a package baring the Orlesian Port Authority Seal. I don’t know what was inside, I just need to deliver the whole thing. So, do you have it?” she asked, noticing how the colour of Varric’s face drained quickly at her words.

She frowned.

“ _Varric?_ What happened to that box?” she asked pointedly, her whole body shifting towards the dwarf in a somewhat threatening pose.

“We, ah, sort of gave it to a guy? For money?”

 

“Hawke!”

The angry yell echoed through the whole tavern, silencing every patron in mild shock at the sudden outburst. Every pair of eyes turned to the woman who was gingerly drinking at the bar, who had stopped with her glass midway to her open mouth. Her eyes shot towards the source of the bellow, and soon a girl came rushing down the stairs from Varric’s room.

Recognition sparked in her head as she watched the girl they had rescued in the docks come barrelling through the room, bare foot and wearing just a pair of leggings and a loose shirt.

The little girl scanned the Tavern for a second before she spotted her target at the bar, making a beeline for her.

Telin stopped just short of the taller woman, eyes scanning her figure critically before she settled them on her face.

Fuck, she was even taller than she had imagined.

A grimace painted itself on her full lips as Hawke regarded her with a confused expression.

“Ah, the little girl from earlier. How are you doing? I don’t believe we had the pleasure of introductions” Hawke finally said jovially, taking a sip from her drink and relaxing against the counter.

“ _Little girl?_ – Telin sputtered angrily – Listen here _Sinead Hawke_! You disrupted my job, stole my objective, and gave it away to some random petty criminal; I say you introduced yourself alright, already” she pointed out indignantly, her head basically fuming.

“Slow down! What are you even talking about?” Hawke asked, her confusion growing with each passing moment. Who in the Maker’s name was this girl, anyway?

“She’s talking about the thing you _retrieved_ for Isabela’s friend” Varric explained as he made his way to them. “She was meant to bring it back to her Boss, that’s why she’s pissed” he went on, stopping short of the two women.

“Whoops, my bad, girlie. I guess you gotta go back empty handed now, uh?” Hawke mused, her tone definitely amused if her words weren’t enough to go by, anyway.

Telin felt her hands start to itch.

“God, I want to punch you in the face so badly right now! I didn’t remember you could be such an obnoxious asshole!” Telin blurted out, lifting her arms in the air to give her frustration an outlet.

 _I can kind of understand why Carver is so fucking bitter all the time!_ She thought, huffing her displeasure.

“Well, get in line missy. It’s not like I know you..” Hawke scoffed, setting her now empty glass on the counter, motioning to Corff with a hand to refill it.

“Hawke-” Varric started, trying to caution his friend.

“My name is Telin, and I’m a member of The Kirkwaller Guild. And _you_ , Sinead Hawke, jeopardized my job with your recklessness and lack of tactfulness” she said, her back straightening and her feet widening her stance a bit, making herself take up more space. It was one of the first tactics Athras had shown her, and one that Telin liked dearly; nothing was better than the look on someone’s face when they realized you were much more dangerous than they had previously assumed.

Priceless.

This time around was no exception, and Telin couldn’t suppress the small satisfactory smirk when Hawke’s face went blank, her crystal blue eyes wide and lost somewhere over Telin’s head.

“Couldn’t you have mentioned it _earlier_?!” Hawke gawked at her friend, throwing him a punch for his omission.

Varric opened his mouth to reply, but Telin cut him off again, earning herself a glare.

“The businesses of the Guild are the Guild’s only” she recited off the top of her head, offering an apologetic smile to the dwarf.

“Yeah, what she said” Varric added, shrugging.

Hawke looked between the dwarf and the girl before she sighed in defeat.

“Ok, ok. I’ll get you back your package” she said, downing the contents of the glass in one go. “Uh…which one was it, again?”

Telin groaned.

“Orlesian Port Authority Seal!”

 

It took Hawke something close to an hour – which Telin spent half listening to Varric, half trying _not_ to have a major break down – but in the end she managed to recover what Telin needed. She wasn’t very happy to hand it over, but she did so anyway, mumbling something about a waste of money all the while.

And so, it was well past into the night that Telin returned to the Guild. Everyone welcomed her back with a smile or a pat on her back for a job well done, and soon she was ushered into Melchor’s office to deliver her package.

The qunari watched her enter, something akin to pride twinkling in his violet eyes as she deposited the requested item on his desk.

“Ah, that’s what I like to see” he commented, examining the wooden box. When he frowned, she knew he had noticed the broken seal; she hadn’t even bothered to try and fix, after all.

“It’s open” he stated, his voice oddly even.

Telin sighed.

“Yes, there’s been a slight… _hitch_ on the road, so to speak” she droned, not sure if she wanted to explain _exactly_ what had happened. “But – she hurried to add – I didn’t look inside, I swear” she promised, her hands coming up with her palms facing him in the universal sign of innocence.

“Do you want to tell what exactly happened? This was supposed to be a simple collect-and-deliver kind of thing” Melchor said, his tone way more condescending that she would have liked.

“Everything was going pretty smoothly, actually” Telin replied with a slight scoff, her arms crossing in front of her chest. “I got the info from the Harbormaster - who is a prick, by the way - and found the warehouse with little to no problem. I also came up with a way in that didn’t involve walking up to the guards posted outside…too bad someone else preferred to barge in, instead” she explained, carefully keeping track of every little shift in the qunari’s expression. The way his face didn’t even flinch at the last bit of info was telling her two things: he either a mind-blowing poker face (which was a solid possibility, mind you), or he knew something she didn’t.

“And?” he urged her on when the silence stretched a little longer.

“And I had a vision. Got knocked out cold in the middle of the skirmish, woke up at the Hanged Man…” she trailed off, her voice as casual as she could make it.

 _That_ earned her a reaction.

Melchor jumped out of his seat, reaching her with two long steps; his hands went on her shoulders, unadulterated concern clouding his silver features.

“Are you ok?” he asked, and for a split second Telin basked in the comfort of his voice and presence, forgetting whatever scheme was running through her mind.

“Not really…saw some pretty fucked up things…” she choked out, averting her gaze. Tears welled up in her eyes and a whole lot of emotions started to build up in the back of her throat; it was really too much to process, and she hadn’t given herself time to do it since she’d woken up. She’d simply pushed everything in a drawer of her mind, and focused on finishing her job. For those hours she cared only for Sinead Hawke to give back what she stole, not that the woman would lose her brother to either the taint or the Templars; or that Kirkwall was going to burn by Qunari’s hands first and Mages’ and Templars’ second; or that Varric would lose _his_ brother to red Lyrium; or that Hawke’s mother was going to be butchered by a psychopathic serial-killer; or that –

The deeply disturbing images started to recede the same moment that a calming wave of magic washed over her, forcing the overload of information out of her head.

When her eyes refocused, Telin was no longer looking at the cold corpse of Leandra Hawke; instead, her gaze was met with an expanse of gray-silver skin and a cascade of silver hair.

“Are you back with me?” Melchor asked slowly, his hands radiating heat and magic where they touched her shoulders, rubbing them in circles.

“Yeah…” her voice came out in a dry whimper, and for a second she concentrated on synching her breathing  pattern to his.

“Good. How are you feeling?” he tentatively questioned, his hands still moving.

“Like I just watched the worst horror movie ever” she tried to joke, and Melchor hummed emphatically despite the fact he had no idea what she meant.

“Wanna elaborate, maybe?” he tried, his eyes searching for hers.

“It was-- a _nightmare_. I know everything that’s gonna happen to this city in the next five years or so…and it’s just-“ she cut herself off, sighing in defeat as the reality of the situation quietly sank in.

Was she really going to let happen everything she knew was going to happen?

But if she changed something and the balance was destroyed because of her?

Her knowledge was already off, this reality being filled with unknowns that weren’t supposed to _be there_.

 _Like The Kirkwallers_ , she thought with some lingering sadness. What was going to happen to all of them in those five years? They were nowhere in her memories, and that was already telling that _this_ , was nothing like the reality she supposedly knew of.

She also still needed to figure out _how_ she knew all of those things, but she was a bit scared of the consequences…the last time she tried to chase that piece of the puzzle she had passed out and woken up with a killer migraine…not a feeling she wished to experience again.

_I suppose I should wait and just let things play out, then…_

“ –lin, Telin?”

Telin’s head whipped up at the sound of her own name, her green eyes locking on Melchor’s.

“You were gone somewhere again” he scolded her, a frown etching itself in between his brows.

_Right._

“I’m sorry, it’s just a whole lot of stuff to process…” she confessed, flashing a sheepish smile his way.

“We really need to talk about what you saw, it worries me that you claim to know what’s going to happen. I’d also like to know who is it that you met in that warehouse; if they are relevant we need to keep an eye on them, especially if they triggered such strong reactions in you…” he said, his eyes still on her but at the same time somewhere else, planning and putting up measures for her safety. He cared for the girl, and after almost nine months she wasn’t just an instrument anymore; she had become a pretty important part of his life now, and he was as invested as she was in understanding her place in Thedas. It also pleased him infinitely that she had adapted so well to them all, and had taken her place among the Guild with little to no problem. Everyone liked her, and as one of the youngest members, everyone loved to play the part of the teacher with her; in turn, she seemed to absorb everything they tried to teach her.

Telin looked at him with a small smile pulling at her full lips; there was something endearing in such a giant that could be threatening just by sitting in chair, being all considerate and gentle towards her. A chuckle escaped her lips, and Melchor’s violet eyes refocused on her laughing face.

“Did you think of something funny?” he prodded her, his expression softening to mirror hers, mischief sparkling all over his face.

Telin hummed in agreement, content radiating off of her.

“I just thought that you are adorable when you get all protective” she blurted out in a laugh.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, that a blush bloomed violently all over her cheeks and nose.

What was she even thinking about?!

 _Get a hold of yourself, you big fat idiot! This is still your Boss, remember? Big, scary, horned qunari that could kill you with a punch_ Boss _!_

Cringing, she took a step back by reflex, getting out of his reach; the moment the magic left her, she felt a cold shiver run through her spine, clearing up her mind in the process.

Telin coughed uncomfortably in her fisted hand, smoothing down invisible wrinkles on her shirt with the other.

“Uh – At any rate! Job’s done, I’ll go catch up on some sleep! See you around!” she shrieked out quickly, her voice getting to never before known heights in all its awkwardness, and she hurried to dismiss herself. And before Melchor could even reply, she was out of the door.

The qunari, stunned by the last confusing minute of conversation, snapped back to his senses when the heavy door clicked back in place after the girl. A deep, rumbling, chuckle shook his chest, and he went back to his desk with a renewed sense of pride and a certain fondness guiding his steps.

Things were certainly interesting now that Telin was around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here onwards we pretty much realign with the main plot :)


	14. Waiting for Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is waiting for Hawke better than waiting for Godot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Hawke here, sadly, but we do meet someone new, even if briefly :)  
> Enjoy ;)
> 
> This Chapter has been reviewd ;)

After the door shut behind her, Telin broke into a run, escaping through the corridors of the Mansion until she was sure she was as far as possible from Melchor. She came to a stop just short of the entrance of the common hall, waiting for a beat to straighten herself before she walked in. It was pretty late at that point, but a few people still littered the tables, a soft murmur of conversations filling the air, leaving a quite pleasurable atmosphere in the candle lit room. Telin exchanged a nod here and there, but ultimately made a beeline for the bar, where – she noticed with no small amount of distress – Maria was seemingly in charge of the counter.

The Tevinter woman literally _beamed_ at her sight, amusement and mischief already creeping in her cheery expression.

Telin groaned a bit inwardly, altogether not really looking forward to interacting with the older woman; with her expansive attitude and carefree character, Maria made her slightly uncomfortable every time they had a conversation; but in that particular scenario, her need for a drink outranked the possible unpleasantness of the interaction.

“Nemo! It’s so nice to see your face!” the woman exclaimed, leaning over the counter to cup Telin’s face in between her hands, squeezing her cheeks as if she were a child.

The girl swatted her hands away and then proceeded to let herself fall on one of the stools, forearms resting on the sticky wood of the bar.

“Yeah, yeah. You too. Can you give me something strong enough to make me forget this day ever happened?” she mumbled tiredly, literally slouching on the counter.

Maria gave her a sidelong glance, humming low in her throat as she examined the pitiful figure she was most certainly offering. After some more moments of silence, she crouched behind the bar and emerged with a bottle and two shot glasses.

“Here, this thing comes from the Frostbacks. It’s supposed to help with the cold up there, so you’re probably going to sweat _a lot_ in here, but it’ll help forget whatever happened to you” she explained simply as she poured the crystal clear liquid in the two glasses, sliding one towards her.

Telin looked at it a bit suspiciously, but ultimately picked up the shot, sniffing it before she downed it without further questioning.

The drink burned her throat and all the way down to her stomach, leaving behind a taste she was definitely accustomed to.

“I never really thought I would miss the taste of vodka…” she muttered wistfully, examining the now empty glass. The nice heat in her belly was bringing back memories of evenings spent with her closest friends, playing games that got more funny the more they drank, of sleeping on the couch, of pancakes and tea the morning after…

Telin grimaced at the thought, and she pushed the glass back towards Maria for a refill.

“Must have been a pretty bad day, uh” the other woman mused out loud, pushing the shot back once it was full.

“You have no idea…”

After that, Telin offered no more excuses for conversation, and the two fell into a quiet rhythm: Maria poured, Telin drank, and so on.

She was well on her way to half the bottle when someone appeared to snatch it away, and Telin whipped her head towards the offender with the most menacing glare she could muster in her perfectly drunken state.

Next to her, Simmons seemed totally unaffected by her grouchiness, and he brought the bottle to his nose to sniff it.

“How could you let her drink this stuff?” he said reproachfully to the older woman, grimacing as the smell of alcohol hit his nostrils.

Maria shrugged.

“She looked like she needed it. Plus, she seems to like it” she said simply, retrieving the glasses from the counter.

“Are you even old enough to be drinking this stuff?” the man asked, turning towards her pupil who was back to slouching on the bar. She looked like she was about to fall asleep.

“Ooooh, I’m old enough to be trained as an assassins, but when it comes to drinking you wanna question my age?” she droned, raising an accusing finger in the air, aimed at no one in particular. “Of course ‘m old enough to be drinking this shit, so shut it old man” she added after, waving the same hand dismissingly in his approximate direction. She wasn’t really sure which way he was…

Simmons sighed in defeat, but the bottle did not return.

“Well, even if that’s the case, I think you had enough for one night. Time to go to bed now, c’mon” he announced, giving the bottle back to Maria for her to put away.

When Telin did not move from her stool, he sighed again.

“Telin?” he called her, but no reply came.

“She’s asleep” Maria helpfully provided.

“So it seems…” he huffed, stepping next to the girl and bending down to pick her up.

Telin did not even stir at the motion, she simply nestled in his arms once he had successfully managed to detach her from the stool, snoring contently.  

“Well, I better go put her to bed. Good night Maria” he said as a parting, hoisting his cargo up a bit better as he moved to leave.

 

It was the sun that woke Telin the next morning, shining brightly right on her face.

She groaned out loud as she rolled over, a sudden wave of nausea rolling in her stomach as she tried – and failed – to get up right.

Not even a minute of consciousness, and she was already sporting a massive hangover that was making her regret every single decision she had made since waking up in Thedas, and possibly even before that.

Her mouth tasted _so_ bad, her head was hurting to a never before experienced level, her eyes were begging for mercy, and her whole body was screaming for water, her muscles aching from head to toe.

With a long, deep, breath, Telin mustered the strength to lift one arm in the direction of her night stand, blindly looking for the canteen she always kept there. Instead, her hand hit something else, and the clinking noise of glass got her attention; she grabbed the vial, bringing it over her face, and noticed that it came with a note attached to it.

_Drink this, then come to see me after breakfast – Simmons._

Telin frowned, a faint memory of the man crawling into her brain: had he been there the night before? She could hardly remember anything after the fourth shot Maria had poured her…

The headache that had quickly built in the back of her skull pulsed, and Telin uncorked the vial without further hesitation, downing its content in one big gulp.

It wasn’t the painkillers she was used to, but it certainly did its job, and not five minutes after, Telin felt refreshed, all symptoms of her drunken night forgotten.

Thedas had its advantages, it seemed.

The hangover gone, her stomach came back to life, roaring loudly for food, reminding her that she hadn’t had anything to eat since the previous day lunch. Which meant she was now _starving_.

After a quick change of clothes and a splash of fresh water on her face to wash away any lingering sign of tiredness, she took the door and headed to breakfast, deciding to just grab a bunch of things before stopping by Simmons’.

The common hall was filled at the brim with people, conversation and laughter booming loudly in a stark contrast from the past night quiet. She made her way through the room, exchanging smiles and ‘good mornings’ here and there to her fellow members until she reached the table where the food was. Humming in approval at the display, she promptly grabbed a tray and started to pile food on it; some sweet rolls, some cookies, some round thingies that reminded her of mini pancakes and a small loaf of fresh bred to eat with jam. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed a pitcher of water and turned around to leave, only to see the grin that Melchor was pointedly directing at her. Telin froze for half a second as she saw him sitting at a table she hadn’t passed on her way there; he was enjoying his breakfast with some of the members of the Guild she hadn’t come to know very well yet.

Her brain railed up, throwing at her the memory of her gaffe and consequent escape, and her first reaction was to run again.

By the time she had made up her mind, Melchor was already beckoning her to go to him, but her fight or flight instincts kicked in at the last minute, and she simply smiled back, rose her tray a bit to show she had her hands full, and mouthed a ‘ _sorry, I’m busy_ ’ before she disappeared between the tables and out the door.

When she reached Simmons’ study, she found him already bent on some dusty tome on his desk, so she tapped her foot to the door to get his attention and avoid startling him with her sudden appearance. The man lifted his head from the book, shooting a pleased smile her way when he saw her standing in his doorway.

“I brought breakfast” she said simply, making her way in and settling the tray on the desk in front of him. “Wanna share?”

“You’re looking fine, I’m guessing the tonic worked?” he asked, setting his work aside and reaching for a roll.

“Yeah, it worked perfectly, thanks” she smiled back, taking the seat in front of him and grabbing a handful of mini pancakes.

“So, want to share what that was all about, last night? I was under the impression that you completed your work without any problem, what got you so riled up?” Simmons asked after a while spent focusing on the breakfast.

Telin looked a bit conflicted, her hands unconsciously playing with the food in front of her, but ultimately sighed and fell back into the chair.

“I _did_ complete the job, but I had a run in with some people that were after the same thing, apparently. It took me a while but I eventually managed to get it back and deliver it, so it wasn’t that bad…” she trailed off, obviously leaving out the small detail of her vision; no one knew about them or _her_ but Melchor, and maybe it was better that way.

Simmons seemed a little worried when she mentioned what had happened, but his keen brain soon steered the conversation towards the crucial point.

“Ok, you’re here in one piece, so I’m guessing whatever inconvenient you ran into wasn’t _that_ bad. It doesn’t explain why you were drinking yourself into a stupor, though” he pointed out, giving her the look of someone that knew there was more that met the eye.

 _Bingo_.

“I, uh, might have wanted to forget a conversation I had…particularly _one part_ of it…” she mumbled, eyes downcast on the table rather than on Simmons. She could already feel her cheeks start to heat up, the last thing she wanted was to blurt out her own embarrassment to one of her tutors.

“Was this alleged conversation _that_ bad?” Simmons asked innocently, definitely not trying to guess who the other party involved had been.

“I might as well have shat my feet for how deep they were down my throat…” she huffed, not bothering to embellish her crude metaphor. A less vulgar one wouldn’t have made it justice.

“First of all, yikes, we’re having breakfast; secondly, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think” he tried to reassure her, even though the tight frown on her face told him he hadn’t quite managed.

“Yeah well, what’s done is done!” she replied, faking a cheerfulness she was not feeling at the moment. Revisiting the events of the day before had reminded her that she needed to investigate her vision, especially if some events were going to be changed by her presence in Thedas and in Kirkwall. The easiest way to do that, was going directly to the source, and she had a pretty solid idea as to where she could find said source.

“Thanks for the chat, Sims, I better head out now. Got a couple of loose ends to tie up” Telin told her mentor once she was done with her food. It was still mid morning, but if she was lucky, she just might be able to track Hawke down somewhere in the city.

“Alright, be careful out there, ok?” Simmons called out after her as she made her way out.

“Promise!”

 

At that time of the day, the Hanged Man was basically empty; the only patrons present had most likely been there since the night before, passed out with their faces on the tables, and no one had bothered to remove them. There was no Varric Tethras in sight, and especially no Hawke, which left Telin feeling mildly disappointed, until she caught sight of a familiar figure.

Sitting at one of the farther tables, with a pitcher of water in front of her, was another one of Hawke’s companions, one she hadn’t had the pleasure to meet yet.

A smile broke on her lips as she watched Merrill happily watering the small potted plant that rested on the table, a soft humming reverberating in the air near her. It was clear she felt happy and relaxed doing that small act of caring, which told Telin more of her Dalish heritage that her vallaslin ever could.

She approached slowly, a somewhat of a shyness creeping into her as she moved closer to the girl; on one hand she didn’t want to come off as too invasive, and on the other she was too excited to care.

“Hello, mind if I sit with you?” Telin greeted, hovering just short of the table without invading her personal space before she was noticed.

At the sound of her voice, Merrill’s big green eyes lifted from the plant and focused on her, a bright smile appearing on her lips as soon as she saw her.

“Hello to you, too!” she greeted her cheerfully in return. “Please do, I’d love some company!” she added, gesturing for her to take a seat at the table.

Telin sat down right opposite to her, smiling back to the elf. Her happy aura was certainly contagious!  
“What flower is that?” she asked as a way to break the ice and initiate a conversation that sounded natural.

“It’s Embrium, very pretty isn’t it? It’s also used for medical purposes” the girl explained, beaming at the chance to explain something to someone else, for a change.  “I used to go and pick herbs when I was with my Clan, so Hawke gave me this a gift” she babbled on, giving a fond look to the flower.

Telin ears perked up at the mention of Hawke, and she saw her opportunity to breach the subject without coming off as creepy.

“Ah, now that you mention it, you’re one of Hawke’s friends, are you not? Merrill, if I’m not mistaken” she proclaimed, feeling a bit guilty for faking her sudden recognition of the girl.

Merrill, bless her pure heart, took the bait and seemed to get even more exited at the idea that someone other than her newly acquired friends could know who she was.

“Yes, that’s me! Do you know Hawke as well?” she asked, almost jumping in her seat.

Telin could not repress a giggle as she nodded in confirmation.

“I do, kind of. I met her just briefly through a common friend of ours” she explained. “Actually, I came here looking for her, do you know where I can find her?” she added, glad to have come to the relevant part of the conversation without making a fool of herself or scaring the elf away.

“Oh, I’m sorry. She left with Varric, Fenris and Aveline for the Coast just this morning, I don’t know when they will be back” Merrill explained, a sudden sadness coloring her face as if it was her fault that Hawke was not there. Or, maybe, she was just sad to have been left behind.

“Ah, I see. Too bad then” Telin sighed, already resigned to go back to the Guild and spend her day in between training and avoiding Melchor as much as possible.

“But, if you come back after dinner, I’m sure you will find her here!” Merrill suddenly said, her enthusiasm already back at a hundred in the span of a minute.

Telin smiled at the girl with gratitude.

“Thank you, I will” she said, moving to get up from her seat. “Have a nice day, Merrill”

“You too” the elf girl replied, waving at her until she was out the door.

It was too bad that she had missed Hawke for the day, but at least she had a chance to catch her later that night, so her curiosity and apprehension wouldn’t exactly overwhelm her completely.

With the resolve to be back in the evening, Telin leisurely made her way back up towards Hightown, taking her time while strolling through the markets, and stopping here and there at some stall or the other when something caught her eye. At one stall in the courtyard of the Merchant’s Guild, Telin ended up buying a leather bound journal with several maps of different parts of Thedas printed on the inside. It was nothing fancy or overly expansive, but the craftsmanship of the maps had caught her eye, reminding her of a similar journal she had bought with her Mom during an international fair. The memory had stung quite a bit, but after almost nine months, she had somehow come to terms that she had no immediate way out of Thedas. And, after weeks spent crying and turning her head upside down over whether she had disappeared for good from her world or not, she had come to the conclusion that she could not keep on going like that; a solution needed to be found, and she would not stumble on one just by being miserable all the time. And so she had grown accustomed to the Kirkwallers, its members, and Kirkwall, adapting and growing in her new life, still waiting and the same time searching for the answers to her questions.

Upon her return to the Mansion, Telin was snatched away by Athras who, having caught word of her success the day before – and subsequent hangover, thanks to Simmons – had decided to reward her with a sparring session. Not exactly the kind of reword she’d wanted, but she’d taken it nonetheless.

The sparring session had ended an hour later with a bruised Telin, an overly-amused Athras, and a promise of lunch from the elven woman. Telin agreed to it, and disappeared in the bath before setting foot in the common hall; not that many of them bothered to get washed so often if they weren’t working a job, but she could not shake a life time of habits, and a quick bath and scrub were necessary after any kind of work out.

After lunch, she made her way to the shooting range, rearranged the targets to her needs, and spent the whole afternoon practicing. She had yet to use her bow for something more practical, but deep down she was dreading the moment she would need to use it to kill someone, whether for self defense or for assassinating a mark. If only threatening the Harbormaster with a knife and bluffing with his life had given her a panic attack, she was scared to even imagine what killing a man would do to her…

Not that it really _mattered_ , anyway.

She knew Thedas was a pretty heartless place to be stuck in, and she was aware that sooner or later someone’s blood would be stuck on her hands, but that did not make it easier to accept.

The sun was setting when she heard familiar footsteps coming up the trail from the garden, and despite how much she did not want to interact with him, she had no way of escaping if not the way he was coming from. Letting go of the breath she was holding, Telin released the string of the bow. The arrow flew at a great speed before it embedded itself in the bull’s eye of the target.

“Impressive. You really are becoming a proficient marksman” Melchor complimented her as he came to a stop behind where she was standing.

Telin turned, the bow lowered in her hand.

“Thanks” she said simply, crouching to let the bow down gently before she made her way to the target to retrieve her arrows. Melchor followed her, his eyes plastered to the back of her head where she could feel them.

“How was your day?” he asked casually, leaning on a tree as she extracted the arrows.

Telin shrugged.

“Had breakfast with Simmons, got my ass handed to me by Athras, had lunch, came to practice. Nothing much, really” she replied, trying not to let her nervousness have the better of her. She was still not comfortable enough to look at him, the embarrassment still fresh in her mind.

In all honestly, she was scared.

She’d never dealt well with rejection in general, and the idea of Melchor telling her off for her comment the night before really frightened her. She didn’t want to make things awkward with the only other person she could talk to about her situation…

“I heard you went out this morning, you went back to the Hanged Man?”

His question had her whipping to attention, her eyes clearly startled.

She was about to deny it, but then remembered that she had mention it yesterday, and she probably owned him some explanation.

“Yes, I was looking for Sinead Hawke. She’s the one that triggered my vision, so I’d figured I’d get to know her, learn if things have already changed because of my presence here… she wasn’t there, though one of her friends told me to go by this evening after dinner, so I’ll do just that” she explained, going back to take out the last arrow she had shot, one of several that had made the bull’s eye.

“The name is familiar, now that you mention it. I think she made quite the reputations while she was working for the Red Irons, but if I’m not mistaken it’s been a while since she left Meeran’s company. She’s a freeloader now, which explains what she was doing in that warehouse, actually” Melchor mused out loud, and Telin nodded in agreement.

“Ah, but of course you knew all that already, right?”

“Yes”

The qunari watched her closely as she put away the arrows in her quiver, and came to a conclusion he was sure she was not going to be pleased with.

“So, if tonight you’re going back, I’m coming with you” he announced, and Telin almost dropped her full quiver back down.

Once more her head whipped back to him, eyes bulging and mouth slightly gaping.

She missed just a beat before she vehemently started to voice her aversion to his proposition.

“Absolutely _not_! What do you think will happen when you set foot in that Tavern? You’ll scare half the patrons away and Hawke will surely refuse to talk to me!” she hissed angrily, taking a step forward towards him.

Melchor chuckled amusedly at the display in front of him; it was highly entertaining to watch Telin get mad at him, it was like seeing a kitten hiss at a bulking Mabari, _adorable_.

“Do _you_ think I’m scary?” he asked suggestively, leaning forward to fill their height gap.

His hair cascaded over his shoulders in the space between them, and he smiled when he caught her staring at it; she always seemed entranced by his hair, and it somehow pleased him very much.

Telin eyes flipped back up to meet Melchor’s violet one, and her frown was immediately replaced by a deep red blush spreading all over her face.

“Not when you act like an idiot, you’re not” she muttered, helplessly trying to school her features in a neutral expression, but ending up pouting in annoyance at her failure to do so.

“Good to know!” he laughed, straightening and leaving her bubble before he patted her on the head. “Now, let’s go have dinner. We have a long night ahead of us!” he declared cheerfully, turning on his heels and making his way back towards the garden.

Telin pouted a little harder, but ultimately followed him back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we are meeting the crew! :D  
> Can't wait to write some of my faves!


	15. Trust Me When I Say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly chat turns in so much more than expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crew is all here, and is here to stay.
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

It was two hours past sundown when Telin left the guild’s mansion with Melchor on tow. The big qunari had assured her he would let her deal with Hawke and her associates without getting _too_ involved, but the girl had her reservations. Rarely, in her experience, a leader would offer to step down from their role if they hadn’t a plan of interfering already in mind, and knowing Melchor, he was definitely scheming something behind her back. Even Simmons had expressed his doubts over dinner, when his boss had announced their imminent trip to the Tavern, and that had not reassured Telin in the least. Her mentor had also shared a long meaningful glance with her, which she had promptly ignored in favor of focusing on her meal. She knew he had pieced together their earlier conversation, but she had no intentions of letting it transpire while they were all together at the table. Luckily for her, Melchor had been too busy being all excited to notice their exchange.

“So, how are we going about this?” Melchor asked as they walked leisurely through Hightown, no rush guiding their steps towards Lowtown.

“I just need to confront Hawke and her companions, see if their stories all check out with what I seem to remember of them. There are already pieces that don’t match what I seem to know, which means everything could be different and my memories could be wrong” Telin explained, doing her best to ignore the little voices in her head that kept telling her she had already fucked up the future just by _existing_  in Thedas.  

Melchor hummed in understanding, stretching his impressive muscled arms over his horned head, basking in the cool breeze that had finally replaced the heat of the day. It wasn’t an everyday occasion that he got to get out so casually, and he had all intentions of enjoying himself and the company of the fiery girl that was still stumping around with a scowl on her face. She was growing in her new persona, but he wondered if she had been as stubborn and determined even in her old life, in her old world. Telin had shared quite a bit about where she was from, and by the sound of it, it was a very different world than Thedas, without magic but with something she had called _technology_. They had devices that helped stay in contact with people all over the world, steel contraption with wheels that could go even faster than horses, and their level of development was way higher than Thedas’ in many ways. She had, once, referred to their age as something called Middle Ages, which – if he understood it right – had happened a long time ago in her world, on Earth. But still, Telin seemed to adapt quickly to the new – or better yet, _old_ – ways, lamenting here and there the general lack of proper hygiene, but ultimately showing no signs of being overly uncomfortable. She was also still not completely used to magic and the way magic worked, but at the very least she seemed to accept mages as people, probably because of her lack of preconceptions on the matter. Still, Melchor was glad for it.

“So, basically, we are just going for a pint and a chat with these fellows?” he asked again, eventually. In front of him, Telin shrugged.

“Yeah, pretty much, I guess” she replied easily, trying not to show the worry that still bubbled right beneath her skin. It bothered her that she was so worked up over the imminent meeting, but she couldn’t quench her anxiety; her first encounter with Hawke had ended up with her passing out, the second one she had only had time to worry about finishing her job – while freaking out about her visions, and now she was going back with Melchor. She also was quite nervous to meet all those people who, to her mind, seemed like long lost friend, but in reality were just strangers.

When the Hanged Man came into view, Telin took a deep breath and closed the distance between herself and the establishment.

Melchor stepped ahead, opening the door for her, but she stood unmoving next to him and just glared up at him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, confused by her sudden animosity towards him. Was she going to tell him off and send him away? Had she changed her mind?

“I get it that not everyone has your impressive muscles, but I’m quite capable of opening doors by myself” she pointed out, glowering at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

Telin flinched inwardly, aware that she was taking her frustration out on him for the silliest of things, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her mood was all over the place, and she wasn’t sure why. Her period had mysteriously stopped upon stepping in Thedas, and she had no clue why. Probably stress, if she’d have to guess, since an extremely awkward conversation with Athras had confirmed that Theodosian’s women did indeed get periods.

“You think my muscles are impressive?” he joked, trying to defuse the tension he could _smell_ on her. It wasn’t the only thing he could smell coming off of her, but he tried not to think about the hormones that were currently impregnating the air all around her.

“Whatever” she huffed, shoving him aside – she knew he had _allowed_ her to move him – and stepping inside.

The atmosphere of the tavern was boisterous, to use a kinder word, but the moment Melchor stepped in after her, the noise started to die down, each and every patron turning towards them with uneasiness and badly covered distaste painted on their faces.

Telin turned back to her boss, giving him a look that plainly said _I told you so_ , but Melchor simply shrugged, stepped forward, and passed an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened at the unexpected touch, the heat of his skin seeping into hers despite the clothes between them.

“Evening fellas, how’s it going?” he asked to the room with the most jovial voice she’d ever heard him use. It was clear to her mind that he was trying to come off as non-threatening and casual, but her body seemed able to only register his weight and heat on hers, keeping its undivided focus on every single centimeter of surface they were sharing.

The patrons, unlike herself, appeared reassured, and soon enough the same level of noise returned in the Tavern; no one was paying attention to them anymore, but the qunari did not remove his arm from her shoulders.

It was Telin who stepped away from him first, moving towards the counter to ask Corff if Hawke was in.

The bartender gave her a once over, then shifted his eyes behind her to Melchor, and finally he motioned towards the other end of the room, where some stairs led to Varric’s private rooms. The door was closed, but once she got near it, she could hear several voices come from the inside.

She hesitated in front of the closed door, not comfortable with the thought of interrupting what obviously had been marked as a private night by the piece of wood standing in front of her.

Melchor, apparently, did not share her reservations, and once more he stepped over her and knocked on the door. Telin was too startled to react, and before she knew it a familiar face was appearing in front of her.

“ – must be Norah with the drinks” she heard Varric say before the door was completely open.

His eyes widened in surprise when instead of Norah, he ended up staring at Telin, smiling sheepishly next to her _very tall, very qunari_ , friend.

“Hey Riddle, what’s up?” Varric greeted her, but his voice lacked his usual cheerfulness, and Telin suspected it had something to do with Melchor’s presence at her side.

Suddenly, Telin had forgotten everything she had come for, her mind going as blank as a page of a word document when faced with the actual people she was supposed to talk to.

What would she even say to them in order not to come off as bat shit crazy? Certainly no one who would believe her if she told them she was from another word, or maybe Merrill would freak out and Fenris would phase through her and squeeze her heart to death. Whatever the case, she didn’t foresee it going very well for her.

Varric was still looking at her with a puzzling look in his eyes when she came back to it.

“Varric, who is it?” Hawke’s voice called from inside, and the dwarf stepped aside to let the door open completely.

Telin froze further when she was faced with a table filled with the people she dreaded see the most.

Seven pairs of eyes were staring at her from inside the room, and all she wanted to do was turn around and get out as fast as she could.

A now familiar wash of cool magic passed through her, and Telin relaxed against Melchor’s hand on her lower back; she wouldn’t tell him, but she was glad he was there with her.

“The little girl from yesterday? What’s she doing here?” Sinead asked, crooning her neck to have a better look at the newcomers from where she was sitting. When she caught sight of Melchor next to her, the color on her cheeks quickly drained, leaving behind two black circles under her eyes that told the world just how tired she really was.

“Is that a bloody _qunari_?” her voice was strained as she asked out loud what everyone was probably thinking. Isabela, on her right, had paled considerably as well.

 _She should be scared, if what she did is true_ , she thought remotely, and a spark ignited in her brain.

As quickly as her indecision and anxiety had manifested, Telin was back in her confident persona; her shoulders straightened, a cheerful smile appeared on her lips, and she stepped forward.

“Hello Hawke. I just came to chat, may I come in?” she greeted.

The mage regarded her with a suspicious look, her mouth drawn in a thin line.

After the way things had gone the day before, she was reluctant to associate with her, especially if it meant trouble with her people. The Kirkwallers were renewed for their power in the city, which rivaled the Templars’ and the Viscount. No one messed with them, unless they were utterly stupid or looking for a quick and clean death, and Hawke didn’t fit in either category. She had managed to stay out of their hair for as long she ran with the Red Irons, and once she became a freeloader she stayed as far from them as possible. Until she literally had one of them fall in her lap.

Telin did not come off as highly threatening when one spared a look to her general anonymity, but their previous interaction had showed her that the girl possessed a certain air of authority and command that she had wrongly underestimated. She did not even come up to her chin, but Hawke doubted her height would have stopped Telin from docking her, if she tried.

And so, the little girl had been labeled as _potentially dangerous_ in her head.

Which wasn’t really saying much, if she looked at the company she was keeping…

“Sure thing, Riddle. Make yourself at home” Varric offered, sweeping his arm towards the table where everyone was sitting. 

“Thanks Varric” she smiled, taking him up on his offer and stepping inside. Melchor followed her closely, smiling as well at the dwarf,  who in return was still looking back at him with veiled suspicion.

The door closed behind them, and two chairs were produced to accommodate the newly arrived guests, who took place on one hand of the long table.

Telin offered a wide smile to Merrill, who had been beaming at her since she had appeared at the door, and settled back in her seat, relaxing slightly against the wood.

“Are you not going to introduce us your friends, Varric?” Aveline asked the dwarf from the other hand of the table, her lovely ginger eyebrows arched in curiosity.

“This is Telin, we met through a mutual acquaintance. She’s a member of the ‘Wallers. And this is..” he trailed off, offering the chance to the man to introduce himself.

“This is Melchor, he’s my-“

“Partner. Pleasure to meet you all” he cut her off, introducing himself.

Telin scowled.

She was getting _less pleased_ with his presence, now.

“ _Partner_ as in…?” Isabela droned from the other side of the table, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively towards the two of them. Telin scowl only got deeper, if possible, as she stared back at the Ravaini woman; she reminded her of Maria, which probably meant they were not starting on the better of terms.

“ _Work_ partners” Telin hurried to finish the statement, marveling at just how quickly the woman had gotten over her initial shock and was now ogling Melchor with a look that screamed ‘ _I’d hit that_ ’. The words left something bitter in her mouth once they were gone, especially at she stared at Isabela staring at Melchor, but she elected to ignore whatever it was for the foreseeable future; for the time being, she had work to do.

“Well, as long as you don’t try to kill me with a spear through my stomach, we’re fine” Hawke said drily, taking her tankard to her lips and gulping down half of it, probably.

Melchor, next to Telin, chuckled amiably.

“Had a run in with the Tal-Vashoth?” he asked, even more so amused when Hawke already sour expression only got worse, along with Varric’s, Fenris’ and Avelin’s.

A light bulb popped up in her head then, and Telin found the opening she was looking for.

“Let me guess, you were sent to deal with the Tal-Vashoth on behalf of Javaris Tintop, so that he could gain favor with the Arishok, in hope to obtain the recipe for Gaatlock” she stated, and all eyes turned to her in pure, unadulterated, suspicion.

Satisfaction and relief flooded her for half a second as she realized she was right, but then immediately changed her mind when she noticed the stares they were directing at her.

“How can you know that?!” Carver asked in disbelief on behalf of everyone else, his voice inching closely to hysteric.

“Yes, good question Junior” Varric agreed.

The girl grimaced a bit under his conflicted gaze, knowing that she was probably about to lose the dwarf’s trust with what she was going to say. But she needed to.

She needed to know if her visions were true, if all that she had seen was truly going to happen to Hawke, her family, her friends, and to Kirkwall. She didn’t know if she could stop it, didn’t know if she should, but she was not going to just sit and wait for things to go sour; if she could help Kirkwall _and_ Hawke, then she was going to try, for their sakes, and hers. Maybe Sinead Hawke was the key she needed to go back home, one way or another.

“Are you a spy for the qunari?” the dwarf went ahead, questioning her before he turned to Melchor. “Are _you_?” he said accusingly.

Telin watched as Melchor’s friendly expression disappeared completely from his silver face, his white hair shifting on his shoulders as he straightened on his chair, displaying his imposing figure for everyone to see. She was distracted, for a split second, by his muscles contracting under his skin before her attention was drawn back to his face, to the way his violet eyes were scanning the room attentively, looking for any possible threats to come their way.

“It is rude of you to assume that I’m a spy just because I’m qunari, but if you really must know, then no, I’m not Qunari. I’m Vashoth. I was born outside the Qun, and though I respect some of their principles, I do not belong with them. I’m part of the Kirkwallers, and I’m devoted to protect this city, as is Telin. It’s our job to be informed, it shouldn’t be surprising that we’ve heard of your dealings”  he elaborated for the room, his voice giving away the confidence and authority with which he was used to address the members of his Guild.

“But aren’t you a little _too_ informed? We only met with Javaris today, and I wouldn’t call it a public deal” Aveline pointed out, ever the clever investigator.  It was no surprise she would become an excellent Captain.

Melchor’s head turned slightly towards Telin, his eyes filled with both worry and encouragement, and nodded.

“And you would be right, Aveline. We- _I_ have a lot more information regarding all of you and this city that it would normally be possible” Telin began, her voice soft in an attempt to balance out the weight of her words.

“That much was always obvious, Riddle. You knew who I was the moment you saw me, and I’d never even seen you before” Varric chirped in, his curiosity clearly waiting for more. She could see how he was divided between wanting to know, and at the same time remain ignorant to protect himself and his friends.

“Same thing with me. You came barging out there yelling my first name, and Carver is the only one who knows it here” Hawke added, clearly only just now piecing things together.

“Mine too!” Merrill piped in from her seat, confusion filling her big green eyes.

Telin sighed, bracing herself.

“I actually know _all_ of you, even though this is my first time meeting most of you” she explained, eliciting different reactions in each of them.

Before they could interrupt her or she lost her nerve, she proceeded to show what she meant.

“Varric Tethras, second child of the Tethras Clan of Kirkwall. You and your brother Bartrand are planning an expedition to the Deep Roads, which you recruited Hawke to be a partner for. Said expedition was in need of a map, hence the presence of Anders. You are a former Warden, but before that you were part of the Ferelden Circle of Magi, which you escaped multiple times, the last ending with your recruitment in the Wardens by the Queen herself. Now you run a clinic in Darktown, helping the poor and working on your manifesto. Then there’s you, Aveline. You came with the Hawkes from Ferelden, and you are now moving forward quickly in the ranks with the Guards;  you’ll be an excellent Captain.

Isabela you were in Denerim during the Blight, and met the Hero. You thought her how to be a duelist, actually. And now you are in Kirkwall, looking for a stolen relic.

You too Merrill, Clan Sabrae left Ferelden just at the beginning of the Blight, and came up north. You recently left your Clan to pursue an objective they did not agree with.

Fenris you are a former slave of the Tevinter Imperium. You managed to escape your Master and are now a free man, but you’re still waiting to take your revenge on him.

And then there’s you, Carver and Sinead Hawke. You lost your sister to an Ogre during the escape from Lothering, and managed to reach Kirkwall all thanks to Flemeth. You worked your way into the city with the Red Irons, all the while trying to fly low under the Templars’ radar.

Honestly, I could say much more on each of you, but I suppose your pasts are your private business to share” Telin concluded, her forest green eyes resting somewhere in the middle of the table, unsure of whatever was to come.

The first sound she heard, was a long, deep, sigh leaving Varric’s lips on her right. The dwarf had slumped in his high chair, his gaze lost somewhere far away from them.

“That’s uh… definitely weird” he breathed out, his eyes settling on Telin.

“I’d say fucking creepy…” Carver scoffed, probably voicing what everyone was really thinking.

And hell, even Telin was inclined to agree with the sentiment; she would be feeling the same way if a stranger came to her out of the blue, claiming to know her and her past.

“You say you are not a spy, but how can you know all _this_?” Aveline asked, her voice even despite the evident undertone of both anger and suspicion.

“In all honesty, I have no idea. I just _know_. It’s like I have all this information inside my head, they’re just _there_ …” Telin confessed, frustration bubbling up in her throat.

She couldn’t exactly go around telling people she was not from Thedas, so that was her best next explanation; which, in the end, was nothing but the truth.

“And we should just go along with that?”

Telin was startled to hear Fenris voice, and she immediately refocused on him with extreme intensity. He had not open his mouth since she had come in the room, he had just limited himself at staring at them with barely concealed interest, his eyes oddly devoid of that mistrust she was so prepared to see in them.

“I’m not asking you to believe me, not yet. But the moment I met Hawke I knew I had to come see you, to tell you…I don’t know, something. I want to help you, and I’d like you to consider me an ally. I know things, events that have already happened, are happening, and will happen in the future. I will not disclose them unless I know I can change them, and I will not reveal what I know of each of you to none other than yourselves. So please, think about it. Varric knows where to find me” she said at last, her eyes never leaving Fenris despite the obvious air of discomfort that the confrontation was bringing to both of them. She could feel _something_ bubbling up in her stomach every time she looked at him, and she strongly wanted him to believe her maybe more than anyone else in the room.

On her side, Melchor observed silently the scene unfolding in front of him. He was a little worried as he stared at each of them, their disbelief clear on their faces, and he found himself glad he had decided to accompany Telin to do this. His thoughts became momentarily sidetracked when his nose caught a whiff of pheromones coming off from the girl at his side, and he glanced down at her to see her staring intently at the male elf sitting on the other side of the table.

The look they seemed to be sharing was a heavy one, and Melchor felt the prickle of annoyance crawl up his neck.   

No one said nothing for a long time, and ultimately, the atmosphere in the room only got heavier.

“I think we should let them think this over, Telin” Melchor said at one point, a hand going to rest on her shoulder encouragingly.

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. Come see me when you are ready” she agreed.

The two got up, said their goodbyes to a shell-shocked room, and left.

All in all it hadn’t been a complete failure; no one had tried to stab her or had shouted at her, but it still wasn’t the best of outcomes. Honestly, she probably had too high expectations for them, so she silently thanked whatever deity there was out there, and tried to be optimistic.

On their way back, Melchor remained oddly quiet, disappearing once they managed to reach the Mansion.

 

It was three days later, during a really slow afternoon, that Hawke made her appearance at the Mansion’s main door.

Telin was reading outside in the garden when she heard the unfamiliar steps following the known ones of Athras; curious as to who was approaching, she rounded the corner of the little alcove she had settled in, and came face to face with her mentor and four guests: Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Aveline.

“You have guests, little girl” she announced as she notice her “I trust you’ll show them out once you’re done” Athras added, nodding once, and then turning on her heels.

“Well, this place is certainly impressive” Hawke commented once the elf was gone, her eyes scanning the garden in mild awe. This was the only other mansion she had visited in Hightown other than Fenris’, and his couldn’t even be compared to this one.

“Yes, it is. Lots of people leaving in it” Telin agreed, her book already forgotten in her hands. She was eager to know if they had come to see her because they had decided to trust her, but she couldn’t untwist her tongue to ask them.

“So, uh, we kind of talked about what you told us, and we were wondering if you’d be willing to answer some of our questions?” Sinead asked awkwardly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tunic.

Telin was positively beaming as she listened to her words, and lost no time in agreeing with their request.

“I will answer all I can, I promise.”


	16. "Blood Mages" - PART I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (Un)Assuming Chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Isabela in this, I think I've said enough ;)  
> Also Cullen, so enjoy :D
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

“So you are a Seer, basically. Right?” Hawke asked as they walked around the streets of High Town.

Telin felt her mouth turn into a grimace, her eyebrows knitting in a frown.

“I wouldn’t call myself _that_ , honestly. I don’t predict the future, I already know it. It’s more like going to a library and reading a book, if I had to compare it to anything” she replied, shrugging lightly under her armor.

“I see. And why is it that you can’t say what is going to happen to us?” Sinead continued, still a bit puzzled that Telin wouldn’t answer her questions about the future.

“If I told you that, for example, you were going to marry Varric in the next three to six years, you could do everything to either accomplishing what I’ve told you, or prevent it from ever happening. Either way, you’d change the future, and what I told you was going to happen would inexorably be changed. Which means I cannot _spoil_ you the future, or what I know to be true will likely change” Telin explained once more, patiently trying to make them understand. She knew it was a difficult concept to grasp, especially for someone who lacked a basic scientific background, but she needed them to get it.

Hawke appeared pensive for a minute, evaluating the information she had received, and Telin feared the mage had yet not understood what she meant.

She opened her mouth to make another attempt, but the woman interrupted her.

“Ok, I think I get it” she said, looking as if a light bulb had just popped up behind her eyes, illuminating the notion had had been obscure to her up until that point.

“Good” Telin offered, smiling up to the woman.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, until they came to a stop in front of the stairs that led back down to Low Town.

“I’m not going to marry Varric in the near future, am I?” Sinead asked out of the blue, startling Telin in a heartfelt chuckle.

“No, that was just an example, I’m afraid. Though, many things have turned out different than what I knew of, so I suppose it could still happen” she said pragmatically, trying – and failing – to stifle a laugh at the outrage painted all over Hawke’s face. Telin bent forward, her stomach hurting pretty badly as she continued to laugh with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It’s not funny! I will _never_ marry Varric!” Hawke argued vehemently, her indignation only fueling Telin’s amusement.

“Well, there you go! Future changed” she threw back, mimicking a spell with her hands.

Sinead scowled for a moment longer before she, too, huffed out a laugh.

“You’re ok, little girl. See you tomorrow morning at the docks” she said as a parting, slapping Telin on her shoulder before taking off down the stairs.

She watched her go, her jet black hair catching the setting sun in reddish shades all over her head, the ponytail swaying left and right in time with her hips. There was no denying it, Sinead Hawke was a _very_ attractive woman, and Telin found herself fantasizing for half a second, before her head conjured up embarrassing scenarios she dismissed quickly. Attractive people were only something to look at from afar, she had no illusions of the contrary.

Telin inhaled deeply, her body calming down immediately as she exhaled slowly.

It was time for her to go back to the Guild and report her _interesting_ day to Melchor; she was certain he would like to be updated about those new development. She had been ecstatic when Hawke had appeared at the Mansion, even more so when she had decided to trust her. Telin had jumped at the chance to talk with them, and she had led them through the parts of the house that was open to the public, settling in one of the lounges. After calling for some tea, she had answered some of the questions they had threw her way, confirming some and denying others. Even Fenris, with his baggage of suspicion, had asked her one about his past; when she hadn’t been able to tell him much, he had fallen back in his sour brooding, avoiding to speak any further. She had been sad to deny him what he wanted to know, but there was a process he needed to go through before he could be ready to know of his past… 

After that the afternoon had passed rather quickly, and soon enough both Fenris and Aveline elected to return to their respective affairs, leaving Telin alone with Hawke and Varric. The dwarf lingered some more, but when Telin kept refusing to divulge ulterior information, he too had excused himself. At that point Hawke had decided to take Telin along to settle some business she had around Hightown, which resulted in the girl meeting Sebastian. The prince was _so_ much more handsome in person, and _god_ , his voice! She had bitten her tongue to avoid scaring him away, but had pointed out to Hawke, after they were done, that she should keep an eye on the handsome chantry brother. The mage had looked at her cryptically, and Telin had simply smiled at her sardonically.

After their business in the Chantry, they simply strolled around until Hawke decided it was about time to go back home, lest her mother started to panic about her absence.

 

Telin made it back to the Guild half an hour later she had sent off Hawke, and before she could even think to sit down in the hall for dinner, Simmons swept her away, urgency guiding his steps.

Melchor wanted to see her immediately, about something work related.

She panicked slightly as she tried to think what he would want to talk about  with such haste, but all thoughts came to a halt when she reached his office and, after knocking and waiting for a reply, she saw who, exactly, was standing in front of the qunari’s desk.

The glistening silver of his armor was the first thing she saw, followed by the Sword of Mercy emblazoned on his chest and, at last, caramel eyes and golden curls. Her brain immediately noticed that there was no scar on his lips, and the revelation was quickly followed by yet another set of visions.

First Kinloch Hold, the sweet smile of Solona Amell, the sadness of betrayal and the acrid smell of burnt corpses and blood—blood _everywhere._

After that there was… only anger.

Her eyes refocused in time to see Melchor fidget in place.

"Telin, this is-"

"Knight-Captain Rutherford, of course. A pleasure to make your acquaintance" she briskly cut in, nodding her head in respect as she stepped forward, sliding up to Cullen. She masked her surprise as best she could, dismissing Melchor's inquisitive glance with a small smile. It _had_ been a surprise to be met with yet another vision at the sight of the man, but as with Hawke, the memories simply filed in to fill the gaps in her mind, leaving her with an even clearer picture.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady" Cullen offered back with a nod.

"Is the Order here to request our services?" Telin asked, throwing a glance towards the Templar at her side.

"It is. And I want you to handle this job" Melchor confirmed, taking her a bit by surprise. Her only reaction was an arched brow, dubious.

"I see. And what does the Order require from the Kirkwallers, exactly?" She went on, curious as to why Melchor would such a job in her hands in the first place. She doubted it would be an easy one, too, otherwise she couldn't explain Cullen's presence there.

"There are rumors running around that a blood mage is recruiting from the inside of the circle, hoping to gain followers for his delusional cause. I managed to stay the Knight-Commander's hand, but only because I promised her a swifter result" The Knight-Captain explained, and she found her surprise had all but dissipated.

When was it something else other than _‘blood-mages’_ in Kirkwall, anyway?

"And I'm presuming this mage is working from the inside?"

"Actually, no. We are pretty sure he is operating from the outside, recruiting via a third party"

Ok, this was quickly turning in an episode of every crime serial she had ever watched in her life. And she had watched _a lot_ of those. Like really.

"Any clues as to who this third party may be?" she asked, filing the information in her head. Maybe she should have grabbed her journal, just to be sure she wouldn't forget something important...

"Yes, we do have a suspect. But approaching him directly would be counterproductive"

"That's true enough. For you, that is. If you can manage to stage a random encounter for me, however, I'm sure I could either confirm or deny your suspicions" she reasoned.

Melchor threw her a furtive glance from his side of the desk, his mauve eyes sparkling with pride. Telin smoothed the smirk that she felt growing in her lips, and waited for Cullen to mellow over her offer.

"I think I should be able to arrange something"

"Good. I'll be by the Gallows first thing tomorrow morning, be sure he is there as well. We would hate to waste the Order's money, otherwise" she concluded with a self-satisfied smile, gloating mischievously at the flustered expression on the Templar's face.

"No-- I mean, of course. I will see you tomorrow then" Cullen managed, nodding again to both of them before leaving the room.

When the door clicked closed behind him, Telin all but slumped on Melchor's desk, melting in a puddle of spent anxiety.

"Are you..ok?" The qunari asked tentatively, lowering himself on his chair to be eyelevel with her.

Telin turned her head towards him, offering a sheepish smile.

" 'm fine, just a bit overwhelmed. It's hard to be confident" she replied, her voice muffled by the desk as one side of her face was currently squashed against it.

Melchor chuckled at her, once again incredulous in the face of her progresses. Not even a year, and she already was as good at faking her way through things as anyone else in the guild. For that, she was probably a natural.

"What's important is that the Knight-Captain seemed satisfied with your work, for now. Though I must admit, you knew how to handle him pretty well" he said, throwing her a knowing glance.

Telin peeled herself off of his desk, straightening slightly at his praises.

"Yeah, well, I think it doesn't come as a surprise if I tell you he was in my visions. As with Hawke and her friends, I know who I am dealing with. Maybe even better, in the Knight-Captain's case" she confessed, shrugging. Cullen timeline was still a bit jagged around the edges, and especially towards the end, but she was sure she had a pretty solid grasp of his character in this point in time.

"I see. Then my choice to assign you this job stands even stronger, now" Melchor asserted, sure more than ever that he had made the right call.

"That reminds me...” she started, grasping the string of thought that had almost escaped her “does the Knight-Captain _know_ of you? That you are a mage, I mean" she said, curiosity and apprehension mixed in her voice.

She knew that some people, despite being mages, would be untouchable, but she worried nonetheless.

"I don't think many outside the guild know, and those who know I'm in charge are even fewer. I have nothing to fear from the Templars, as does any other Kirkwaller" he assured her, though she certainly did not seem convinced.

"I know the Guild holds a pretty untouchable place in this city, but even we are not above Chantry laws, you know that, right?"

"No, we are not. But rest assured, the Chantry can only benefit from our presence here. If we were to ever remove ourselves from the picture, there would be a lot of unhappy people knocking on their doors" he told her, smiling reassuringly.

She still looked a bit worried, but she eventually relented.

Melchor had survived just fine before she even showed up, she had no cause to be overly paranoid about Templars showing up at the Mansion’s doors.

“Alright, ok – She paused, looked down at her feet, breathed in once, and then looked back at Melchor. – Shall we go have dinner?” she asked companionably, scrolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness of a long day.

“Lead the way”

 

The first light of the next day found Telin already awake and dressed, and after a quick breakfast, out the door and on the streets. The usually over crowded narrow passages of the docks were pretty quiet so early in the morning, with only the random hangover sailor passed out on one corner or another; only the Qunari compound seemed already up and busy, and Telin imagined that Arishok had his men up at the crack of dawn every day. She didn’t know much about qunari or their culture, they were a very secretive society, but what little she knew was enough to have her steer clear of the compound for as long she could. She knew eventually she’d have to go in, but the imposing figure of the Arishok in her mind hadn’t her looking forward to it. She pushed the thought aside as she finally stepped down the few steps to the right pier, pretty surprised to see that Hawke and Varric were already there.

“Morning everyone” she greeted amicably, stopping just short of a very grouchy Varric. The dwarf sure didn’t look like he was enjoying being up so early in the morning!

“Morning Lin!” Hawke replied happily, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Telin startled a bit at the sound of the new nickname, amazed that the mage already felt comfortable enough in her presence to address her in such way, but only smiled to it. She actually liked it, coming from her; it made her sound oh-so-very endearing.

“Why are you so cheery so early, Hawke? There’s nothing to be cheery about before noon” Varric grumbled beside her, covering his mouth just in time to hide a monstrous yawn.

“Well, if you ever tried sleeping, Varric, I’m sure you could be cheery too” Sinead grunted, shoving him a bit. Varric stumbled slightly, cursing under his breath as he barely managed to stay upright.

“Long night?” Telin asked, curios as to why the dwarf was that tired; she knew he was used to stay up until the wee hours of morning, but he usually wasn’t that crabby after an all-nighter.

“Yeah, something like that” he replied, a little elusively; maybe _too_ elusively.

She hummed low, masking her doubt, and dropped the subject, opting to steer the conversation to something else.

“So, who are we waiting for, anyway?” she asked instead, turning back to Hawke. She had her hypothesis on who would accompany them, of course: either Anders or Merrill would attract too much attention in the Gallows, Aveline was a solid choice, Fenris too, or maybe Carver. Isabela she didn’t know, the pirate was a bit of an unknown to her, even with all the information she had on her…did something else drive her other than her personal gain? Doubtful, at that point.

“Fenris and Bela should be here any minute now” Hawke replied, and Telin found that the mix was unexpected, surely, but definitely effective, if one cared to think about it.

“Ah! There they are”

Telin turned just in time to catch a breathtaking sight.

The world suddenly slowed down, and she had to call up all her willpower not to gawk.

The sun was playfully bouncing off every single bit of Fenris; his hair, his lyrium tattoos, his sharp armor, his grass green eyes…he was literally bathed in the morning light, and she didn’t think she had ever seen something so simply beautiful in her life. For a moment she was reminded of the sun coming up behind the mountains, with the snowy tops barely visible in the brightness, posing a stark contrast with the shadowy valley below, begging to be washed in sunlight too.

Then her eyes fell on Isabela, and the mountains were replaced by the sea, the sand, and the smell of dried salt on naked skin…naked caramel skin on unending legs, and swaying hips, and generous breasts… Maker but she was gorgeous! It wasn’t fair, really. Isabela was everything Telin would have loved to be: brazen, confident with both her body and her sexuality, skillful, incredibly hot…

“Ah, look what the cat brought in today! This morning just got brighter!” Isabela purred as she walked up to Telin, throwing a big, over the top wink her way, followed by a mischievous smirk. She felt her cheeks heat up at the attention, and she dearly hoped her tan could mask it.

Ok, maybe she _could_ get over the fact that she reminded her of Maria…

“Good Morning to you too, Isabela” Telin choked out, then turned to Fenris to escape further embarrassment. She offered him a small smile and a polite nod which he reciprocated without words.

“Perfect, we’re all here. Let’s go, the sooner we get this done, the faster we can get the hell out of there” Hawke announced, stepping confidently over to where the ship was waiting for them despite the obvious disgust shiver that ran her through.

 

The Gallows were… _haunting_ , if Telin had to describe them with one word. All those statues, ominously watching everyone from their place up above, offered a pretty clear picture as to why everyone referred to the place as a prison; and it wasn’t just because it housed the Kirkwall’s circle, that much was obvious.

Kirkwall had a long and bloody history as the center of the Imperium slave trade, and despite the rebellion of the slaves that brought the City-State to independence, the proof of that past remained all over the Gallows, a sick reminder and warning for mages, slaves to a system they had no hands in shaping.

“You ok?” Sinead’s voice, coming from behind, shook Telin out of her reverie, and she turned to offer a thin smile.

“Not really, this place makes me sick…” she trailed off, trying not to succumb to that suffocating air that seemed to impregnate every corner of the island. She felt as if the pressure alone could crush her any second…

“I know what you mean, what they do to mages here is-”

“Another mage sympathizer, are you” Fenris sneered at her from Hawke’s other side. Sinead opened her mouth to chastise him, but Telin beat her to it.

“Actually, I was talking about the history, not the mages. Those statues are from the Imperium’s domain, they remind me of everything that’s still wrong in the world, even ages later… Everything here exudes oppression, and it’s not only because of the way mages are treated” She replied, successfully managing to shut Fenris and his rants about mages. “You of all people should understand that, shouldn’t you?” she smiled sadly. The expression on her face and the feelings behind it disappeared pretty quickly though, knowing that they wouldn’t be appreciated nor wanted in the first place.

“Enough with the doom and gloom, Riddle, let’s go get the information we need and then get out. I’m in need of food and ale, and not necessarily in that order” Varric popped in, definitely putting an end to the discussion as he walked away and towards the center of the courtyard.

“Oooh, are we visiting Captain-tight-pants again?” Isabela asked, her face completely giving away her amusement at the prospect as she sauntered along her fellow rogue.

“Is she talking about Knight-Captain Rutherford?” Telin asked with a raised brow as she followed with Hawke, Fenris bringing up the rear.

“Yes, do you know him?”

“Kind of. He hired me – well, _us_ – for something” she said, keeping it as vague as possible. First of all, it was Guild’s business, and secondly, she imagined Hawke wouldn’t exactly be a fan of her working for the Templars.

“Was it for something shady?” Sinead asked in hushed tones, looking around suspiciously, as if she would be able to gauge the nature of the work just by glancing left and right.

“Nah, it’s just a thing out of the Order’s reach, apparently” she offered, still skirting around the truth.

Well, it wasn’t as if she were lying, either.

“So, I’ve got good news and bad news, what do you want first?” Varric voice cut in their conversation, catching both of their attentions.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him, offering her best skeptical look to the world.

“The bad one, I guess” she tried, crossing her arms over her armored chest.

“Curly’s not here”

“Uh. And the good one?”

“Curly’s not here” Varric repeated, a sly, crooked smile cracking at his lips.

Telin would have appreciated his cheekiness if only her head hadn’t been more preoccupied with the tingling feeling that the dwarf’s nickname had provoked. It was when she wasn’t able to follow where that particular information led that it hit her: Cullen wasn’t there.

_Oh fuck me sideways!_

Telin groaned inwardly at her bad luck, but no one seemed to mind her.

“You shit! Let’s make ourselves useful, then. I’d hate to go back to Macha and tell her we couldn’t find her brother just because the Knight-Captain decided to take the day off” Hawke said, already turning around to go and ask about. The name _Macha_ perked Telin ears, jogging her memory for her, as per usual. It turned out that there was something else she associated it with other than the fact that it reminded of _matcha_ , the traditional tea she so loathed.

Of course Cullen wasn’t there!

“Actually” she started, barely managing to catch Sinead before she rushed off somewhere in the Gallows. Four pairs of eyes turned to her, and she hurried to finish the sentence “I think I know where to find the Knight-Captain. I’m sure he will shed light on what happened to the recruits” she said.

“And why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could have avoided a trip to this dreadful place” Sinead scoffed, but her feet were already leading her out the courtyard and towards the docks.

“For starters, you didn’t exactly mention what we were coming to do, and secondly, I had business to take care of with the Knight-Captain as well” she replied pragmatically while she followed.

“Were those _naughty_ businesses?” Isabela chirped, and Telin could _hear_ the wink in her voice despite the fact that she was not looking at her. “I thought you had _business_ with that qunari friends of yours” she continued, unabashedly.

She tried not to blush at the implications, she _really_ tried, but the thought of doing _naughty_ things with Melchor brought a crimson wave across her whole face, flushing its way over her tanned skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Telin grumbled under her breath, looking very intently on where she was putting her feet.

“Really? You and the qunari?” she heard Hawke asked in open incredulity, a somewhat disappointed edge tinting her words.

This time Telin groaned out loud.

“There is _nothing_ between Melchor and I, so please can we focus on where to find Cullen, instead?” she pleaded, flinching when she noticed the slip of her tongue.

“Yes, let’s talk about the _other_ man, shall we” Isabela purred, obviously all but ready to drop the subject.

“I think Curly still has a ways to go before he could even compete with Tiny” Varric pointed out, definitely not helping with his contribution to the conversation. At least Fenris was limiting himself to his silent brooding.

“The qunari has a certain prowess to himself, but the Knight-Captain looks like a man that can hold his own” the elf commented as well, and again Telin both groaned and tried not to imagine all the ways Melchor could display his _prowess_.

“Maker, are you done? Don’t we have a Templar to find?” she cried out, stopping just short of getting on the boat that would lead them back to the city.

“Where did you say we needed to go?”

“Somewhere on Sundermount”

“What’s with the vagueness? Didn’t you say you knew where the Templar went?” Hawke whined, a headache already building in the back of her head because of the heat.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be easy to track down a Templar in full armor trudging through the woods” she huffed, letting her backside hit the wooden plank of the boat without much grace. She was slightly disappointed that she couldn’t point out a precise location for them, but the little she knew was fuzzy at best, and that would be the first time since her arrival that she ventured outside the city. Neither Athras nor Simmons had deemed it safe to have her running around the Wounded Cost or Sundermount, and so the trip had been postponed to never.

“Right?”

 

It turned out that yes, it was easy to track down a Templar in full armor in the wilderness, but no, they didn’t manage to find Cullen quite so quickly. When they finally did, he was already engaging the abomination and the demons it had summoned. The group quickly joined the skirmish, and Telin did not think twice when she knocked the first arrow and let it fly directly in the abomination’s head.

 _It’s not a person anymore, it’s not a person anymore, it’s not a person anymore…_ she kept chanting it in her head as she shot arrow after arrow, until the abomination went down under Cullen’s sword. After that, the demons were dispatched pretty quickly, but Telin managed to catch a glint, in full amazement, as Fenris phased through one of the demons before he cut it in half with his broadsword. She was stunned for a moment, her eyes unable to peel off of his silver-bluish marks as they slowly died down on his skin.

Yeah, Cullen wasn’t even on her top priority list in that moment…

“-you for your help, Serrah. I don’t think I would have managed on my own” she heard him say, and she snapped her brain back into line to listen and pay attention to what was truly important, instead of objectifying Fenris.

“Thank our friend, Captain, she was the one who knew where you were. _More or less_ ” Hawke replied, adding the last part after a significant pause.

Telin stepped forward at that, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Serrah – he nodded apologetically in her direction – I’m sorry I wasn’t able to uphold my end of the deal, but as you may imagine, we have other problems at the moment” he said, looking back at the pile of ashes  that had been the abomination.

“I can see that. In fact, my friends here needed to talk with you about some of your recruits that have gone missing recently” Telin explained, motioning for Hawke to recount what she had learned from the boy’s sister.

Cullen face only got more grim, and he sighed in defeat.

“I knew there was something wrong going on, but when I decided to confront Wilmod it turned out to be too late. The boy was clearly under the influence of a blood mage” he stated, not really surprising anyone.

On her left, Fenris sneered audibly, and she couldn’t find it in herself to disagree with him.

“Could this be linked to the _other_ case we are investigating?” she asked, though it seemed to her that half the population of Kirkwall was made of Blood Mages…

“I honestly don’t know. It could be, just as well as it couldn’t”

 _Very helpful_.

“I see. Then maybe it’s better to keep an eye on that mage; in the mean time I’ll keep helping Hawke with this problem. Can you tell us something more of these recruits? Maybe we are still in time to save the other” she said, pleased when he nodded in agreement to her idea.

“The two recruits had been spending a lot of time in the Rose, recently, but I- uh, haven’t had a chance to go there, yet” Cullen offered, his face slightly flushed a he rubbed the back of his neck in attempt to hide his frustration.

Isabela didn’t bother to repress her laughter at his words, and Telin grimaced impishly for the poor Captain. He obviously wasn’t comfortable with the topic, and the pirate was making everything worse for him.

“Of course, we’ll head there then. I’m sure we’ll manage to find something” she quickly intercepted whatever comment the other woman was about to drop on him. “If there’s anything new, you know where to find me” she finished, bobbing her head in respect as she prepared to leave.

The Knight-Captain reciprocated the gesture.

“I’ll be off then, the Knight-Commander would want a report on what happened here today” he said before he recovered his helmet and marched out of view.

“Well, who wants to go to the brothel?” Telin cheerfully asked once Cullen was away from view.

“Why love, that certainly is one way to win my heart” Isabela purred, passing an arm over her shoulders, successfully squeezing Telin against her chest. She had never complained about her breast size, at times even regretting its abundance, but Isabela’s was something else entirely. She had never seen a pair so big yet  so firm _without_ the aid of a bra or some well placed implants. It should have been criminal, really.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for the Maker let’s just go to that brothel” Hawke sighed, shaking her head at the display in front of her eyes.

“Worried we’ll bump into Junior?” Varric snickered from her side, earning a meaningful glare and a shove.

“I really hate you, dwarf.”


	17. "Blood Mages" - PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter! It was originally longer than this, but I decided to cut it here in order to give more justice to both pieces :)  
> You'll see what I'm talking abuout ;)
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

The walk back to the city went by somehow quickly and less stressfully than the other way around – probably because this time they actually knew where they were going. Still, by the time they reared back to Hightown, midday had come and went, and Telin was starting to feel a bit hungry.

“Ah, the Blooming Rose – it’s just like coming home” Isabela sighed with pleasure as the establishment came into view at the top of the stairs. Despite being the middle of the day, the small square was pretty busy, filled with merchants and employers of the Rose alike, everyone trying to cut a deal for their services.

“Let’s just get this over with” Hawke breathed out next to her, visibly squaring her shoulders.

“You sound as if we were about to go into the sewers; it just a brothel” Telin snorted, bringing up the rear next to Fenris, who had been brooding silently all the way from Sundermount.

Hawke turned to her with a grimace, distaste painfully clear on her sharp features.

“It’s not _just a brothel_ when your little brother spends half of his days in there” she replied, a little bit disgusted.

Telin only snickered at her, remembering all the times she had caught her brother either with his girlfriend or watching porn on the computer. Her innocence hadn’t lasted long, though it wasn’t her brother’s fault entirely.

“Believe me, there are worse things he could be doing” she offered in solidarity, patting her the back when she stopped at her side.

By the look Sinead gave her, she got the impression she knew what Telin was talking about.

“Don’t worry Hawke, I’m sure Junior is just somewhere else, getting drunk” Varric _oh-so-helpfully_ jumped n, soliciting a deep felt groan from his business partner to be.

“Just shut up and get inside” she sighed, shaking her head as she strode quickly towards the door as if she were on a mission.

“ _That’s what she said_ ” Telin quietly muttered under her breath, mostly out of habit than anything else. Isabela laughed, while Fenris limited himself to throw her a glare as he passed her.

Telin shrugged nonchalantly and followed the party inside.

The Blooming Rose, like everything else in Kirkwall, was a new yet familiar sight for Telin. Her memories spoke of intrigue and passion hidden in every dark corner, and despite the mild embarrassments she was expertly covering, she was excited to explore the place.

As expected, Hawke made a beeline for the Mistress of the House, and the immediacy of the action spoke volumes of the _familiarity_ both Hawkes seemed to have with the Rose.

 _And they’ve been here barely two years_ , Telin mused, obediently following behind. She couldn’t pay much attention to the discussion though, as her eyes were kept busy by the sheer quantity of things to observe around her. It was not even two hours after midday, and the House seemed already filled with patrons: noble men, soldiers, and even a couple Templars crowded the scattered tables, drinking or entertaining themselves with one of the girls – or boys. There were a lot actually, she noted, that preferred the company of men to that of women, and for how much she was not surprised by the sight, her brain supplied that all of them were _elves_. Disgusted, she understood immediately the reason why. It didn’t take a genius, really, and she bitterly thought that things seemed to be the same everywhere she went, different world or universe be damned.

“You are looking for ‘ _The Exotic Wonders of the East_ ’, then. She’s upstairs, first door on the left” the Mistress was saying when she focused back in on the conversation. She nodded towards the back of the room, where a double staircase led to the upper floor.

“ _The Exotic Wonders of the East_? Why does she sound like a cheap character out of one of Varric’s tales?” she asked, more to herself than anything.

At her side, the dwarf scoffed.

“I resent that, Riddle. I’m obviously much better at naming my characters” he stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest in defense.

“We’ll see” Telin replied with a snort, watching amusedly as Varric stopped to consider her words, finally settling for a professional curiosity.

“Any spoilers?” he asked, half-jokingly, raising an inquisitive brow at her.

“About what? I have _no idea_ what you are talking about” she shrugged, turning back to Hawke, who just happened to be done with her conversation.

“Are we going to interrogate this _wonderful_ woman, then?” she questioned, unable to leave out the little bit of irony coloring her voice. Sinead barely nodded, clearly refraining herself from commenting on it.

They made their way to the back of the room, passing through tables and patrons, and then quickly climbed up the stairs. Once on top, Hawke turned to the group.

“Fenris, you and Bela stay out here, in case she tries to escape or someone wants to come in” she directed. The warrior and the pirate gave no sign of disagreement, and positioned themselves on each side of the room. Telin suspected that Isabela wouldn’t have complained regardless; the woman hadn’t stopped smiling since they had entered the establishment.

Telin followed Hawke and Varric inside, and the moment her eyes set on the woman standing, almost enthralled, in front her vanity, the usual _click_ of an information settling itself back down in the puzzle occurred in her head. Immediately, she stepped forward, putting a hand on Hawke’s arm. When the other looked down at her, Telin just nodded once and moved past Sinead, signaling silently that she was going to take over.

They were halfway inside and still the woman hadn’t noticed them, and Telin took her chance.

“Excuse me, are you Idunna?” she said, clearly startling the woman out of reverie as she whipped around.

She watched as her initial surprise at the sound of her name died down, melting in an overly pleasing smile on her painted lips.

“Oh my, what a sight. Do I know you? I think I would have remembered such delicious faces” Idunna droned, purring seductively as she practically floated towards them.

Telin pushed the compliment aside, determined to not be swayed by such tricks.

“No, but your reputation definitely precedes you; both the men we spoke to recommended you by name” she went on, keeping both her voice and stance as casual as she could muster them to avoid raising any suspicions. “What were their names again?” she asked then, turning towards Hawke, who in return gave her a cheerful smirk.

“Wilmod and Keran” Sinead supplied helpfully, a glimmer shining in her eyes as she followed Telin’s lead.

“Ah, yes, the two young recruits. Do you remember them, by chance?”

Idunna visibly tensed up, face paling at the question, confirming what her fragmented memories had shown her.

“Yes, the names do tell me something” she replied vaguely, skirting around the topic as best she could. Instead, she took another couple more steps forward, coming to a stop once she reached the edge of Telin’s personal space. “But have you come just to talk? I’d hoped we could engage in more… _exciting_ activities” Idunna purred again, leaning in to whisper the words right next to the shell of her ear.

Telin had to clench her fists not to flinch away from the sudden unsolicited attention. Not that Idunna wasn’t attractive, but she had a fundamental problem with the invasion of her private bubble.

Plus, she _probably_ was a blood mage; so there was that, too.

“That doesn’t sound half bad” Telin heard Varric say from behind, his voice different from usual; he almost sounded as if he had been enchanted by the worker’s words.

“See? Your friend _gets it_ ” Idunna chuckled, still not backing away.

“Well, in all truth I was more interested in knowing what happened to those Templars. If you don’t mind” Telin countered, looking closely for any kind of reaction that could give the other away.

The woman’s response came under the guise of a spell, catching everyone off guard. Suddenly, the room was swaying lightly, the light of the candles dimming to an almost near darkness.

“Come now, enough with the questions. _Let’s have some fun_ ” Idunna drawled, a hand gently caressing her cheek in a circular motion. Time seemed to slow down to nothingness, and Telin felt her body leaning in towards the mage, as if she were a magnet with a pull she couldn’t resist.

When she was but a breath away from the other woman’s lips, a jolt of electricity ran her through, from her right forearm outward to the tip of her feet. The shock was quickly followed by a light blue light, engulfing everything and everyone; in one single, fluid motion, the world around her was restored to its natural state of being.

Telin blinked once, looking first up to Idunna’s incredulous face, and then down at her arm, where the golden veins swimming in her empty tattoo were still pulsing faintly with blue.

“Uh” was all that left her lips at the revelation, which was filed away for a later examination. She was fairly certain Melchor could give her an explanation; after all, it _was_ his design.

“Wh- How?! You are _no_ mage!”Idunna gasped, a hand jumping up to cover her mouth.

“Nope, but it looks like this little thing is not just pretty to look at” Telin quipped, shrugging slightly.

"But you are! That was blood magic, I felt it" Hawke cut in sternly, her own magic already burning at the tip of her fingers.  

"So, is she the one who took the two poor sods then?" Varric asked, free at last from her magical enthrallment.  

"She is, in a sense. And now she's going to tell us where we can find Keran, right Idunna?"  

To her credit, the woman didn't exactly come off as an idiot, and she nodded profusely, falling pleadingly on her knees.  

"Yes, Maker, I will tell everything! But please, do not hand me over to the Templars! They will make me Tranquil at sight!" She cried, tears staining her round cheeks with streaks of kohl.  

Telin looked back at Sinead, shrugging in her armour. She had done her part, the rest was up to her; whether she decided to dispose of Idunna or let her go, she knew it would be inconsequential.  

"First, tell me all I need to know. When, and if, I manage to find Keran, then I'll decide what to do with you. Until then, you better not disappear" Hawke sentenced, her authority born out of years of exercising it as the head of the family.  

Telin smiled to herself; whatever was going to happen to Kirkwall, whatever her role would be in the broader picture, she was somehow glad to be able to witnessed it all.  

"Yes Serrah, I promise!" Idunna immediately agreed, jumping up to her feet to recover all the clues and information she had.  

 

Isabela smiled at them with her signature cheeky grin once they left the room, the door closing hastily behind them.  

"Did you have fun? I heard some crying, you must have had fun!" She said, nudging Hawke with her elbow. 

"Telin's the one who had all the fun" Sinead replied, clearly not thinking thoroughly about her phrasing, especially since it was the pirate she was talking to.  

"Is that so? Ah! I knew you had to swing both ways" Bela cheered, passing an arm affectionately around the girl's shoulders. "Especially with the way you leered at both of us this morning" she added sardonically, winking at an already furiously blushing Telin.  

"I wasn't leering!" She protested, quickly whipping her head around to look at the Fenris. She was terrified by the idea he could misunderstand Isabela's words; the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was no better than his Master. She was not objectifying him! But the elf was not even paying attention to them, already walking ahead of the group down the stairs, probably as eager as Hawke to leave the establishment.  

They were practically at the door when Varric piped up again. 

"Hey Hawke, isn't that your uncle?" He asked, looking back at a graying man seated at the bar. 

Sinead neither stopped nor turned around, she just groaned out loud and picked up the pace, basically barging outside.

 

On their way down, the group decided to have a break at the Hanged Man, to at least grab some cheese and bread - and ale - before  getting back out and heading to the seediest parts of the city. Telin accepted the food gratefully, scarfing it down hungrily as her stomach protested the absence of food since that early morning breakfast. They didn't  linger much, and before they could try and relax, they were already hitting the dusty roads.  

While on their way through Darktown, Hawke had wanted to make a pit stop by Anders' clinic to pick up a couple more healing potions and tonics, and so Telin found herself outside said clinic, keeping company - so to speak - to an even broodier Fenris. She knew he didn't trust Anders (and never would), and understandably so, but she found herself curious to know his mind nonetheless. The things she knew about him before Kirkwall were few, and fewer were his voiced and honest opinions.  

Cautiously, she made to speak. 

"So I know you're not fond of Anders and his...  _condition_ , but surely you can agree that what he's doing here is good?" She said, phrasing it as a question to avoid putting thoughts and words in his mouth.  

Fenris didn't even bother to face her once she had spoken up, but Telin felt the glare regardless. She was touching a thorny issue, she knew, but now she had poked the dragon; at worst, she knew he would just go on ignoring her existence as he had done since that morning discussion at the Gallows.  

Silence stretched between them, interrupted here and there by voices coming from the inside of the clinic and the general ruckus of Darktown; it was never truly silent, down there. After a while without a reply, Telin had just resigned herself to his stubborn muteness, and so she jolted up a bit when his deep baritone voice rang through the air.  

"He is an abomination. These people will be lucky until the day it turns on them" he replied harshly, all his bitterness and hatred for mages filling every gap between his words. 

Telin was expecting the exact same reply, and almost smiled when she heard it.  _Almost_  being the key word.  

"Well, whenever it happens, I just hope Justice remembers what was the meaning of Anders' life" she offered, not denying it or demeaning his words, but instead adding to them under a different light. At that, Fenris finally turned towards her, his white hair swaying with the movement, falling right back into his big green eyes. She bit her lips as she watched. It was difficult not to think about how gorgeous he looked, honestly.  

"You did not deny my words. Does that mean you too believe he's going to turn into an abomination?" He asked, cautiously, probably unsure on whether he really wanted to hear her reply or not.  

Telin nodded.  

"He is, but not in the way you think - so please, let's leave the murdering for another time, um? For now, he's doing a hell of a lot of good for these people, and he still has a role in all this, even if you don't approve" she told him earnestly, fearing for a split second that her words would send him in a killing frenzy. When she stole a glance to where he had started pacing, she found him still and relatively calm.  

"I will keep watching him, then" he simply said, offering a small bob of his head.  

Her replied died on her lips when Hawke, Varric and Isabela reappeared from the inside of the clinic.  

"All set?" She asked instead, falling in place in the middle of the group as it moved out.  

"Yes. One of the refugees has also pointed us towards the entrance of the tunnel Idunna mentioned" Hawke replied, her stride brisk as she walked confidently through the slums.  

“And the map she drew for us is enough to find this hideout?” Varric asked, always the pragmatic one.

“It should be. Worst case scenario, we get lost, and the Templars find themselves with a bunch of possessed recruits. Everyone’s gonna have a field day, I’m sure” Sinead quipped from the head of the group. They moved quickly and in silence, and before long they were entering the tunnels Idunna had assured them would lead to the mages’ hideout.

Telin began to fret a bit to herself, hoping that if push came to shove, she wouldn’t be required to kill anyone just yet. Demons, she could handle; but everything else? She wasn’t so sure.

The passageways were eerily silent, with their boots stomping against the dusty floors as the only sounds echoing along the walls; then something _clicked_ under their feet, and suddenly they were surrounded by shades.

The response was immediate, and despite the still somewhat shirt acquaintance, the group responded to the threat with the ease of a well oiled mechanism; Hawke put barriers on all of them before slamming the bladed end of her staff right in the face-hole of the shade that had appeared in front of her, Fenris bellowed a taunting cry, focusing the attention of several demons on himself as Isabela disappeared behind a smoke screen. Both Varric and her scrambled to take some distance from the melee – and she begrudgingly admitted that the dwarf had a hell of a lot more flourish to his movements than her own – and quickly holstered their weapons, bolts and arrows ready to fly.

The first shade vanished into a pile of ashes after Hawke set it on fire with a mine, then a second and a third fell under Fenris impressive swordsmanship, while a fourth under Isabela’s wicked daggers. Varric downed a fifth with Bianca, and Telin limited herself to offer cover and support where it was needed as they proceeded to take down the remaining shades.

Unfazed, they kept following Idunna’s map, and the more demons they came across, the more they were reassured to be going in the right direction.  As they reached yet another room, Varric held up his hand, signaling them to stop. When they caught up to him up front, they all immediately caught sight of Keran; the young man was floating in a magic bubble, suspended several feet from the ground, seemingly unharmed and definitely unaware of his surroundings.

Varric kept in the front as they made their way down, taking the steps one by one carefully – he had started to lead the party after the second time someone stepped on an unseen pressure plate – until he found what he was looking for; sure enough, at the foot of the stairs, rested another trap. He made quick work of the mechanism , disabling it before someone could carelessly trigger it.

“All set" he confirmed, patting the dust away from his knees - a fruitless endeavor, since they were probably covered in it from head to toe.

"Good. Stay alert people, we are clearly walking into an ambush" Hawke pointed out, and sure enough, the moment they all set foot on the ground floor, a group of four mages emerged from the shadows behind Keran.

"Did the Templars finally sent lackeys to do their dirty work?" The woman - possibly the leader - asked defiantly, stepping forward with confidence and a sneer on her face, staff already clutched tightly in her hands.

"We are only here to bring Keran back to his sister" Sinead deadpanned, clearly not inclined to entertain a conversation with the blood mage. The party slowly inched towards their weapons, ready to draw them at Hawke's directive.

"Ah yes, _this one_. We weren't able to put a demon inside of him, and so we keep him here just for his life force" the mage replied dismissively, not interested in Keran at all. She spoke of him as if he were just another tool, a mean to an end, not another human being.

"But it's just a minor setback. We will find another, and then another, and we'll plant the seed of chaos in the very Order! Mages will be free, and the glory of the Imperium will rise anew!" She gloated with astonishing conviction.

Telin scowled to herself, silently wondering why every blasted villain always had to reveal their plans right off the bat.

Was it their ultimate goal or something?

"You do know that Tevinter is a sorely elitist society, right? The fact that you are a mage does not even out your anonymity or the fact that you’re, in fact, _not_ a citizen of the Imperium. Best case scenario? You become an indentured servant to some Magister, which is only a prettier way to say you'll be a _slave_ " Telin interjected, feeling the annoyance of the mage's ignorance prickling her skin.

The mage turned to her with a vicious snare, glaring daggers all over.

"You know _nothing_ \- " she began ranting again, but found herself interrupted by Fenris, to everyone's surprise.

"She knows more than you ever will, you fool!" He growled, apparently done with small talks, as he quickly charged the mage without a second thought.

Everyone else took a moment to respond, and before they all knew it, they found themselves engaged in battle.

Once again, as everyone took its place on the field, Telin hurried to higher ground to provide some cover. She focused on taking down demons, abominations and the walking skeletons that were summoned, leaving to the others the burden to eliminate the mages. The first two died quickly, and the number of demons depleted, but the fight was far from over.

Suddenly, a desire demon popped up in the middle of the room, and by the gasps and grunts coming from downstairs, she assumed it was a particularly tricky one to take down. With only the woman remaining standing, and momentarily safe behind her shield, the group focused on the demon. But even the small distraction on their part was enough for the mage to take advantage of, and Telin watched her disappear from her bubble, only to reappear behind the group without anyone but her noticing it. She watched as magic started to pool in front of her, a powerful spell building up in the air; she needed to either stop her or call out to the others. The ruckus of weapons and magic was too loud for her to be heard, and if the mage took notice of her little vantage point, she could find herself in a pretty tight spot. The only other solution would be to shoot. She had a clear line of sight to the back of the mage, and one arrow would be enough to stop her from potentially hurting anyone. Seconds ticked by, and she knew she had to make a decision, quickly.

Shoot and kill the mage.

Don't and someone gets seriously injured.

 _You don't have time for a conscience when someone's trying to kill you_ , Athras had told her once while training, months ago.

Telin grimaced nonetheless.

Breathing in slowly, she knocked and arrow, raised her bow in front of her face, gripped the string, pulling it all the way to her cheek, and then released it along with the breath she had been holding.

The arrow flew quietly and fast, hissing until it embedded itself in the back of the woman's skull. The magic building up between her hands died down, dispersing in the air and disappearing. And then the woman fell forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud, dust floating all around her before it set down.

It was done.

The blood mage was dead.

She had helped her friends.

She had killed a person.

Mage or no mage, she had just taken away the life from another human being.

And now what?

The fight ended quickly after that, leaving behind a deep sense of numbness that for a moment took everything else away.

" -dle... Riddle are you ok?" Varric's voice cut through the haze, and Telin found that she was still looking at the woman's dead body.

"I...I killed her" she heard herself say flatly.

The dwarf took the steps quickly, grimacing as he came close to the girl. He should have expected it, she had never struck him as someone who was used to death and violence, no matter how good she was at handling that bow.

'Shit, I'm sorry. I should have known" he cursed under his breath, hurrying to make sure she was still breathing properly.

"No, I- I was... I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later" she sighed, shouldering her bow. "I'm fine, truly. I'll just have to work through this" she added, smiling faintly at the concern displayed all over Varric's face. He was good man, and an even better friend.

"Are you sure?" He asked lightly, careful not to push her too much.

"Not really" she said, shrugging. "But I'll manage, _somehow_ " she admitted honestly.

"Hey, you ok up there?" Hawke called up to them from the floor below where Isabela and Fenris were helping Keran stand, unharmed.

"Let's go see if the boy is ok" Telin nudged the dwarf, brushing the issue off to analyze at a later moment; probably when she was alone and could freak out as much as she needed to.

"Thank you for saving me, Serrah, I thought I was done for when those mages got me!" Keran was saying when she reached them.

"Your sister sent us looking for you. How are you feeling?" Hawke asked, eying him a bit clinically.

"I'm a bit tired, but other than that..." He trailed off, clearly unsure of his own words.

"The mage mentioned trying to put a demon inside of you, what exactly happened?"

"She- she _tried_ to, but it didn't work. I'm fine, I'm me, I swear!" He insisted, his eyes turning desperate at the stony expression on Sinead's face.

"Is there a way to know he's telling the truth?" Hawke asked, turning to Telin. She shook her head.

"I don't know. But we could always bring him to Anders, he probably knows what to do" she suggested.

"N-No, I'm fine, I promise!" Keran repeated with more conviction than before.

Hawke glared at him, crossing her arms.

"You either come with us and let our healer take a look at you, or I'm going straight to the Knight-Captain" she deadpanned, and at the mention of Cullen, Keran went pale, bowing his head in surrender.

"I- ok. I'll come with you" he conceded, sighing.

"Good. Let's clear out then" Hawke nodded.

They looted the place up a bit, salvaging everything that could come in handy, and then they made their way back towards Darktown.

Once they reached Anders' clinic, Telin tried to excuse herself, needing space and time to process what had happened. She wanted to go back to the Guild, take a bath, and then pass out with a bottle of that _vodka_ Maria had given her the last time.

"I will accompany you" Fenris said, unprompted. She blinked once at the sudden proposal, but found herself nodding her acceptance.

They walked in silence out of Darktown and up to Lowtown, and Telin found comfort in the brooding quiet between them.

Fenris walked her all the way to the front door of the Guild, then nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey, wait!" Telin called after him.

He turned, the light of sundown catching in his white hair, creating a halo behind his head. Her breath caught a bit in her throat, word failing her for a second.

"Ah - thank you for walking with me" she finally settled on, smiling lightly at him.

He nodded once more.

"You are welcome" he replied, then walked away.

She watched his back until he disappeared behind the corner.


	18. Vodka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ship is sailing, are you on board?
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

The main hall of the Mansion was already filled with people taking their supper by the time she made her way through the place, and she waved here and there as she passed. She was hungry, the smell of stew teasing her stomach, but a look down at her clothes had her steering towards the baths; she was covered in dust and stray demon goo from head to toe, not exactly an appealing dinner outfit. She wasn’t _soiled_ , but a bath would be a nice respite.

After a quick stop by her room to recover some clean clothes, she headed to the baths, stripped down in the first empty room, and let herself sink in the warm water.

Her eyes closed, and immediately her brain conjured up frame after frame of the moment she had taken the decision to shoot the mage. She saw with grim precision the instant it pierced through the woman’s head, heard the sick crunch of breaking bones, and watched as her eyes gradually unfocused before she fell in the dust.

Her eyes shot open as the numbness crawled back throughout her body. She had never felt such an overwhelming guilt over _anything_ in her life, and the need for that bottle of vodka increased exponentially.  She _needed_ to work through it, but at this point she doubted she could do it alone. It was a weird feeling, the knowledge that she had the power to take another’s life so easily…

Yes, alcohol would be _sorely_ needed.

She took a deep breath, rinsed herself thoroughly, and got out. She took notice of nothing, her body moving on auto-pilot while her mind processed the guilt slowly.

She got dressed, not even bothering to put the boots back on, and made for the main hall again.

She was surprised when she noticed that most of the crowd had already dispersed – how much time had she spent in the bath without even noticing? She sighed, grabbed some beef jerky and a piece of bread, and started munching on them as she went about the bar looking behind the counter for the bottle she wanted. She rummaged around, moving things left and right until she found what she was looking for. The clear liquid shone brightly, swirling in the bottle as she picked it up.

“Didn’t know you were on bar duty” Melchor’s voice said, startling her. She flinched, her hands tightening on the neck of the bottle. When she looked up at him, he was smiling warmly at her.

“Hey – No, I’m not. Just grabbing this, actually” she replied sheepishly, smiling back a bit forcefully.

He eyed her with a frown, his violet eyes shifting between her and the bottle she was holding onto.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, watching her flinch again.

 _No, definitely not_.

She grimaced, all her discomfort showing honestly all over her face.

“Not really…” she confessed, sighing. Her eyes fell on the counter again, mouth downturned. She wanted to talk to him, let him help her through this, but she wasn’t exactly the best at expressing her feelings, especially when asking for help.

“Did something happen with Hawke?” Melchor asked, then paused, taking a step forward to give her a once over. “Are you injured?”

“No – no, I’m fine. I just – do you have time to talk?” she asked, her voice almost pleading. She needed him to say yes.

“Of course. Grab that bottle, we’ll go to my room” he immediately replied without a second thought. Telin nodded gratefully, stepping in front of the counter. As they made their way out the room, she caught sight of Simmons out the corner of her eye; he was looking at them with concern written all over his face, and she tried to smile reassuringly. He seemed satisfied, and nodded at her.

She made a mental note to go talk to him in the morning, regardless of how the night was going to turn out.

Melchor led her quickly through the various corridors, until they reached a familiar door; he opened it for her, motioning for her to enter first. She milled around, unsure where to sit down – _if_ to sit down at all.

“Please take a sit, I’ll get the fire going” Melchor prompted her, steering her towards the fire place with a light hand on the small of her back.

The physical contact was welcomed this time around, and she let him direct her towards it. She plodded down in the armchair, letting go of a tired sigh as she relaxed against the soft padding.

Melchor lit the fire with a flick of his wrist, then disappeared from view. Telin listened to the sounds of the room, catching the clinking of glass over the crackling of the flames.

When he reappeared in her field of vision, he passed her one of the two, before he lowered himself in his qunari-sized chair.

Telin poured them both a glass of the clear liquid, the aroma of the alcohol invading her nostrils.

“How do you call this here?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them. The qunari took a sip, grimacing slightly at the taste.

“I have no idea. It’s the first time I’ve tasted this” he said, a bit stiffly. The liquor burned his throat all the way down to his stomach.

Telin chuckled, and downed the two fingers she had poured herself in one go. Melchor watched her with astonishment as she drank it without even flinching; she seemed rather fond of it, smiling in satisfaction as it set in her belly, warming her sore muscles.

“You seem to like it enough, uh”

She smiled.

“I used not to” she confessed, eyes lost in the now empty glass. “Then one of my friends, who’s country is famous for their production of one of the best _vodkas_ , made me try the bottle she had brought back. Straight, ambiance temperature. It was a revelation. One time, me and her boyfriend finished off an entire bottle shot by shot, it was awesome” she mused, chuckling bitter sweetly at the memory.

A sudden feeling of nostalgia pierced through the numbness, and she felt the overwhelming need to cry. She repressed it by pouring herself another glass, throwing it down quickly.

“Easy there, will you. Have you eaten anything at all?” Melchor chided, taking the bottle away from her.

“Something. Wasn’t really hungry” she murmured, already feeling the jerky and bread churning in her stomach. It was a lie. She was _so_ hungry, but the thought of putting food in her mouth wasn’t really a priority.

“Well, if you want something to eat, just say the word” he offered, taking another deliberate sip of his _vodka_. It tasted like wheat.

“I’m good, thanks” she insisted, trailing off. She was trying to buy time to think how to broach the problem, and then her eyes fell on the tattoo on her forearm.

“This thing… - she started, reaching out with her right arm towards him – it’s not just merely a _symbol_ , right?” she asked, losing herself for a moment as she watched the molten gold swirl through the empty lines.

“That’s correct. It was designed with a protection spell etched into it, it is meant to protect its bearer from minor spells, especially those meant to influence or control one’s mind” Melchor confirmed, his violet eyes following her green ones to the tattoo. His hand moved independently, and he found his fingers ghosting over her arm, tracing the strong, precise lines that formed the Kirkwall emblem. Her tattoo was different from any other he had ever performed on the other members, it was more soft somehow, though the lines were as straight as he’d ever seen them. His forefinger followed the central body of the design, running from the bottom and all the way to the top, where he noticed for the first time the missing diamond of the dragon’s head. He frowned slightly, almost missing the shiver that shook her arm. He looked over to her, finding Telin completely relaxed against the chair, eyes closed and mouth agape. He smirked, and kept running his fingers up and down her forearm, somehow eager to see what kind of reactions he could elicit from her.

The more time he spent with her, the more he found that Telin was becoming a heavily important part of his life. If at first he had only thought of the advantages she could bring them, now he felt oddly protective of her.

“I killed someone today” she suddenly told him, and he found that he had zoned out as he thought. But her words immediately brought him back, and he stared at her with mild disbelief. He knew it was bound to happen, sooner or later…

“Tell me” he said, remembering vividly the way he had felt the first time he had taken somebody’s life.

“I was with Hawke today, we were tracking a Blood Mage that was kidnapping Templar recruits. We managed to find their hideout, and on our way in we merely encountered resistance in the form demons, abominations and the like; but then we found the mages. Hawke and the others were able to dispose of three mages out of four, but had been distracted by a tough demon. The last mage, the leader, had come up behind them, reading a spell… I- I was the only one who saw, and had a clear line to shoot…” she trailed off, reaching out for the bottle. Melchor handed it to her without protest, and she took a long swing out of it. It was hard to say out loud what she was about to say; the moment you voiced a thought such as that one, you made it more real.

“It was my conscience against a possible life-threatening harm…so I did it. I shot an arrow right in the back of her head” she continued, her voice cracking a bit as the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“I took a life because I deemed it less important than someone else’s…it was _so easy_! The knowledge that I could – that I probably _will_ do it again… it frightens me. No one should have that power…” she went on, chocking on her words as big fat tears run down her reddened cheeks.

Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity, the passing of time marked only by the crackling of the wood in the fireplace.

“There are a thousand platitudes I could offer you right now, but I won’t. I also won’t coddle you, telling you that you won’t need to do it again. This is an harsh world to be in, held at the seams by fear, violence, and hatred that will rob you of everything if you let it. That’s why you have to fight back. People will try to take advantage of you, you will find yourself in the position to choose as you did today, if you’re lucky; if you’re not, you’ll just have to do what’s necessary to survive another day. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you” Melchor told her, his words grim and heavy, and yet his voice filled with such care and comfort.

Telin trusted Melchor.

Despite their rocky start, she felt she could count on him for anything, something she wasn’t exactly used to. It was the first time she felt such blind confidence towards _anyone_.

When his words’ echo disappeared inside her head, she turned to him, a grateful smile pulling her lips at the corners.

She observed him in silence, watching as the flickering light of the dancing fire drew patterns of shadows on his silver hair and sparks in his big, violet eyes, filled with a feeling she couldn’t quite place. His mouth was mirroring her smile, and she noticed the dimples that formed at the corners. His head shifted a bit, white hair cascading to one side with the movement.

“Thank you” she finally said, and the simplicity of it warmed his heart.

Another moment passed. And neither of them seemed inclined to break the quiet and comfortable atmosphere that had settled in the room.

Telin reached for his empty glass, filled it along her own, then handed it back. She rose hers in a silent cheer before turning back to the fire.

 

They spent the following hours just drinking in companionable silence, exchanging glances and furtive smiles here and there.

When Telin yawned for the tenth time in a row, Melchor chuckled.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go to bed, aye?” he said, smirking as her protests were interrupted by yet another yawn.

Telin paused for a moment, looking longingly at the qunari’s bed in the opposite corner of the room.

“I… don’t think I want to sleep alone…” she muttered quietly, so low that, had him been anything but qunari, he wouldn’t have heard her.

“You don’t have to. If you want, my bed is yours” he offered earnestly and without malice.

Telin immediately flushed, regretting her thoughtless words on the spot.

There she went again, making a complete fool out of herself!

On instinct, she jumped up on her feet, ready to flee the scene, but swayed dangerously as her brain reminded her that alcohol, added to a tiresome day, wasn’t exactly the perfect mix.

Melchor stepped up quickly to support her, his wide, strong arm reaching behind her back.

If she had been blushing before, now she was positively burning from embarrassment.

“I’m not joking, you know. You can sleep here, I won’t mind” he repeated, this time with mirth colouring his words as he basked in the knowledge that he was flustering her.

“Stop teasing me” she huffed, trying to push him away. “People will talk” she added, schooling her face back into a normal shade of bronzed pink. It was easier when she knew he was playing with her.

“People are _already_ talking, Telin” he replied, matter-of-factly, very much enjoying the way her hands balled into fists on his shirt over his chest.

“C’mon. If you don’t feel like sleeping alone, then you don’t have to. The bed is big enough for the both of us” he continued, taking a step back from her personal space; though his hand remained on her back.

He was being serious under his teasing, and he hoped she could tell.

Telin hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth from him to his bed as her cheeks lightly flushed again.

She really didn’t want to be alone, because she knew she was going to either don’t sleep at all, or have a fitful sleep filled with nightmares.

Finally, she conceded.

“I- Thanks. I appreciate the company” she sighed at the quiet admission, feet shuffling awkwardly on the floor.

Melchor smiled broadly, nodding.

“Make yourself comfortable” he told her, nudging her towards the bed.  As he watched her shuffle towards the other side of the room, he felt a selfish sense of satisfaction flood him, especially when he recognized the dress she was wearing.

It was the one he had bought her all those months ago.


	19. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Simmons /slightly/ disapproves*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, /really/, short chapter this one!  
> Had to get it out of my system, so here you go, fluff for everyone.
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

Morning came to Telin with a start.

She woke from a nightmare – _demons, mages, screams, blood, oh god, so much blood_ – jumping up in bed, sweat dripping down her forehead and clamming every single inch of her skin. Cool, cotton linens pooled at her hips as she straightened, her chest still heaving with the remnants of a panic attack. Images and sounds jumbled themselves behind her eyelids, slowly fading away until they disappeared entirely. Rustling from her left caught her attention, and her eyes landed on Melchor’s sleeping form. She suddenly remembered that wasn’t her bed she was in. In the silence of the barely dawn light, she watched as the qunari stirred, arms stretching over his head, white hairs sprayed on the pillow in an untidy and knotted crown. A yawn escaped his lips as his eyes scrunched before slowly prying open; he seemed a bit lost until his gaze wandered and settled on Telin, causing a lazy smile to pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey” he murmured happily, rolling on his side to look up at her more comfortably, his right horn dangerously close to scraping at the head of the bed. A bit of self-satisfaction flooded his chest as he took in her mussed hair and sleepy face.

Her smile was a little forced when she reciprocated, though.

“Hey” she breathed in reply, her muscles relaxing slightly. The crude pictures of her nightmares had faded away from her mind, but her body was still feeling both the fear and strain of it.

“Why do you look even _more_ tired?” he asked, his eyes finally sharpening out of the grogginess of sleep enough to spot the dark circles under hers, and the way her shoulders were bent inward. “Ah – nightmares?” he posed as a question, though it was clear it wasn’t really one. He sat up as well as he observed Telin quietly sagging shoulders, her eyes following the slow cascade of his hair down his naked shoulders and chest.

“Yeah…” she sighed, gaze drawn to the windows where the sun hadn’t even started cresting over the mountains. “At least I managed most of the night” she said, shrugging. It was definitely better than not going to sleep at all, she mused.

Melchor followed her line of sight and groaned, aware that they had slept barely for five hours. He could use another two to three hours of rest, if he had to be honest with himself.

“You should try to go back to sleep, you know. It’s still fucking early” he grumbled, suppressing another yawn with the back of his hand as every fibre of his slightly dehydrated body begged him to go back to sleep.

Telin grimaced slightly at the display, guilt churning her stomach knowing that she had woken him so early in the barely morning. If it hadn’t been for her nightmares, he would probably still be sound asleep.

“Sorry, you’re right. I should let you sleep. I’ll just go back to my room, get ready for the day…” she trailed off, throwing the covers off her legs as she made to get off the bed. Beside her, the big qunari groaned and rolled his violet eyes at her back. Without a word of forewarning, he reached out towards her, hooking an arm around her waist to pull her back on the bed.

Telin swallowed a yelp of surprise as the man’s stronger arms pulled her back, her body falling in a heap right next to his. Melchor promptly curled around her, the arm that had hooked on her waist resting on her hip as he literally engulfed her in his embrace.

“Wh – Let go of me!” she sputtered as she tried –and failed – to detach herself from him, his weight pinning her down despite her best efforts.

“Hush. Sleep now, complain later. I’ll wake us up for breakfast” he replied, his eyes already closed but with a grin on his lips. It was unholy how good it felt to have Telin so close to himself, and he wasn’t going to let her go. Especially not after he’d seen how haggard she looked – and probably felt.

Telin huffed and struggled some more, but the more she felt his heat under her skin and his even breath and steady heartbeat under her fingers, the more she started to relax. Soon enough, her body had adapted to his rhythm, and she found herself falling asleep before she could think twice about it.

 

The second time the both of them woke up, it wasn’t because of a nightmare she’d had. A cadenced noise had made its way inside their heads, drawing them both away from their slumber almost simultaneously.

A knock was echoing through the now sun-bathed room, and judging by the insistence of it, whoever was standing outside had been there for a quite a while.

Finally, Melchor was lucid enough to call out a sleepy “Yes?”, momentarily unconcerned of the circumstances.

“Melchor, are you up? It’s Simmons” the person on the other side of the door called out in reply.

“Come in!” he said automatically, his mind still groggy enough not to catch up on the situation he was currently in. A quiet groan came from Telin by his side, who was looking at him with a half-embarrassed, half-terrified expression on her face. He threw her a sheepish smile, unable to feel _too_ guilty when he noticed the absence of dark circles under her eyes. She looked rested, if not a bit dishevelled: her hair was all mussed up, half her face crumpled with sleep lines, and her dress had fallen off of one shoulder during the night. It was too late to go back though, and Simmons promptly walked inside.

“Hey, you still in bed? I was wondering if you knew where Telin-“ the words died in his mouth as he rounded the wall that worked as a divider between the sleeping area and the rest of the room.

He silently took in the sight of his pupil and boss tangled together in the sheets, both looking well rested and fairly comfortable with each other, despite what the blush spread all over Telin’s face was implying.

“Really, you two…” he grumbled, arms crossing in the most paternal pose he had ever mastered “If you wanted to laze in bed past midday, at least tell someone. Half the guild was already in a frenzy” he sighed, a bit exasperated. Once the morning had passed without even a glimpse of both Melchor and Telin, Simmons had mobilized to find them. He had spotted them together the night before, leaving the common room with a bottle in hand, and had thought to find them passed out somewhere.

The bed had been…unexpected, for sure.

But even a fool could have picked up on the atmosphere in the room; the big qunari’s oozing satisfaction, added to the way the girl was trying to will herself out of existence, drew a pretty clear picture.

“Sorry, we stayed up late talking last night, worked through some things” Melchor explained, shrugging off the suspicions thrown their way. Simmons arched an eyebrow at him, but did not press him further.

“Something happened?” he asked instead, turning his eyes to where Telin was still wishing another Eluvian would appear to swallow her up.

She just nodded, not sure her voice would not crack if she dared to speak out loud. Had she _ever_ been this embarrassed in her life before? Probably not.

“Why don’t you go get washed up and meet me in the study for lunch? We’ll talk then” Simmons helpfully supplied, though his voice did not sound much as a suggestion.

Glad to have something else to do than just keep laying in bed with the qunari, Telin threw the covers off her feet, jumping on the floor and darting out the door with her head low.

When the silence returned to the room, Simmons’ whole behaviour changed. He went from playfully disappointed to scowling in a moment, his demeanour demanding and commanding at the same time.

“You too, get up” he almost commanded, a forgotten light briefly shining in his eyes. For how much he tried, Simmons found himself unable to suppress his military background when he was altered.

“Aye, aye, commander” Melchor replied mockingly, rolling out of bed as well. He knew there was a lecture coming, and he was _not_ looking forward to it.

“Don’t _Commander_ me, Melchor. It’s not as amusing as you think” Simmons countered, following the man through the room as he moved about.

“Listen, I know what you’re about to say. I just-”

“I don’t have a thing against your relationship with Telin, whatever it is, so cut it. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing” Simmons interrupted him, maybe a bit self-consciously. He knew his lectures could get old, but he always felt them as necessary.

Melchor paused, his hands half way through the frogs of his shirt. He blinked twice, going over the other man’s words a couple times to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood them.

“I…think so” he replied, perhaps a bit lamely, caught off guard.

“ _You think so_? Melchor, half the Guild is already gossiping like old maidens, and the other half is taking bets. This _thing_ you have going on, is already public, you have to take a stance. Telin is her own person, and I won’t speak for her, but you have to remember under which circumstances she’s here. We need stability, and to have that, our leader has to be stable, you understand?” Simmons declared seriously, all his years as a military commander showing in both his stance and voice. Everything in him gave the impression he was used to being listened to; not an everyday sight, to be sure.

Melchor regarded him with the same amount of seriousness and respect he deserved, the smile gone from his lips.

“Alright. I’ll…see where this goes. And I’ll be careful, promise” he said, dipping his horned head towards him.

Suddenly, the atmosphere lifted, Simmons satisfied with his boss’ answer.

“So, care to share what happened last night?” he then asked with a smirk, nudging suggestively towards the tangled sheets on the bed.

Melchor grinned cheekily, arching his brows.

“That depends, what’s your money on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when I'm going to able to update again, I have one last exam on the 14th (I had one more today but they cancelled it last minute, yay...) and then I'll be leaving for my week-long holiday in Scotland on the 22nd.  
> I'll try to write as much as I can, but I've gotta stop procrastinating ahahah  
> Until next time! :)


	20. The Mage Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some Anders, because of reasons.
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wasn't gonna procrastinate, I lied.  
> Here's the longest chapter so far, I'm going to panic over the amount of time I don't have to finish studying *thumbs up*

Mornings in Kirkwall were never chilly, not even in the earliest hours. There was always a faint heat left in the air, trapped in the humidity that never seemed to dissipate.

Telin was somewhat glad she didn’t need to cover much in order to feel warm so early in the morning, but a part of her really missed the complete absence of heat. A bit more than nine months had gone by since her arrival in Kirkwall, meaning she had missed the winter back home, where spring would already be bleeding into summer. Kirkwall did not seem to know what seasons were, and beside a couple storms coming in from the sea, the climate had remained stable and hot. It was not an unbearable heat – back home, with no sea to speak of, the air would get so thick with humidity it was difficult to even breath sometimes – but she missed the changing of the seasons nonetheless. In all honesty, she still struggled with the way Theodosians conceived the passing of time: the number of days in a month and the number of months in a year were different to what she was used to, and nine months weren’t really enough to absorb it all.

The noise of a boat reaching the shore caught her attention, and Telin nodded to the Templar that had come to escort her to the Gallows.

She wasn’t really looking forward to go back, but she had a job to complete and she would not fail.

After the dreadful day with Hawke, Telin had spent a couple days reflecting on her actions and what it would mean to continue on the path she was on, and had come to the conclusion that she wanted to walk it. No matter how ugly it could get, something in her told her she was ready, that she was meant for it, and she ended up believing that albeit small confident part of her subconscious.

That had led her to think over her strategy with Cullen, which was why she was currently being escorted to the other side of the harbour and to the Gallows.

Maybe a direct approach would have left her with no information and a suspicious mage to deal with, but if she could expose herself to the suspect, then perhaps her sudden appearance and intrusion would not seem that much threatening. She had come up with a cover story, helped by both Cullen and the Guild, that would see her take up shop in the Gallows. The Knight-Captain had passed on the information that many mages – the suspect included – had a tendency to look for rare herbs for their potions, and that suited Telin just fine. The day before, the little impromptu shop had been set up in one corner of the courtyard with all the necessary permits, and now all was left was for her to open it up for business.

Simmons had helpfully provided her with several book on herbs in addition to a couple lessons on how to recognize them and what purpose they served, and she now felt moderately confident she could pull off her cover. And, in the eventuality she would make mistakes, she was ready for it. A good undercover operation needed to have all fronts covered, and Telin had felt too excited – and anxious – to leave out anything. She even had several anecdotes on her family ready, if someone ever asked her as much.

Melchor had been surprisingly helpful during the preparations, making himself always available whenever she needed his input. Watching her being so thorough had elicited several laughs from the qunari, who had seemed to take no small amount of entertainment over her fretting.

The boat gently swayed  over the waves of the harbor, and Telin couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from the glooming picture of the Gallows slowly approaching. The young Templar, who had introduced himself as Ser Kisley, was a stony-faced man, and nothing in him suggested he was open to or welcomed small talks; and so she stayed silent, gaze fixed on the looming silhouette of the Circle, rehearsing her own back-story in her head.

They reached the pear what felt like an eternity later, and Ser Kisley escorted her directly to the Knight-Captain before being dismissed.

Telin greeted Cullen professionally and with the detachment necessary to be credible.

“I hope you are ready, then?” the Captain asked conversationally as he guided her towards where ‘her wares’ had been sat up.

“I am. I should thank you again for the opportunity, Knight-Captain. Doing business in the Gallows will certainly be beneficial to my activity” she replied, making a sure her voice was strong enough to be heard by the handful of people that already roamed the courtyard.

“Good. You are free to take up shop until the first bell of sundown. After that, there will be no more business to make. Be mindful not to wander where you are not permitted” he then added for good show. It wouldn’t do to treat her any more differently than any other who had taken their business up to the Gallows, and having the favour of Templars would only discourage mages from trusting her.

“Of course Knight-Captain. I shan’t give you any trouble” Telin replied, nodding respectfully.

Cullen reciprocated the nod, though very briefly and not at all deferential.

“As you were, then” he said, before turning and disappearing somewhere inside the building.

Finally alone, Telin took a deep breath.

In front of her there were five boxes: each, she knew, contained carefully packed herbs, all named for her to recognize quickly. Some she had become familiar with, like Elfroot and Blood and Dawn Lotus, but the more rare and exotic she only recognized by name. it would take time, but she was confident she would remember them all given some time to practice her little shopkeeper act.

Next to where the boxes had been placed, two tables were ready for her to set up. On top of them already rested several wooden containers where she could place the wares, each with the right name on top – so she wouldn’t get confused. Melchor could laugh all he wanted at her apprehension for details, but she knew being prepared for any eventuality was more than a simple safety-net.

The early morning hours went by in relative peace, with only a bunch of people scurrying around the square; they were mainly Templars, probably remnants of the night watch switching over the morning one, and they all threw her curious glances. Telin tried to tune out the prickle of uneasiness that she could feel right under her skull, and set to work carefully and diligently, whistling a tune here and there. As she unboxed the herbs and placed them in the containers on the table, she found herself thinking over the lyrics of a couple of her favourite songs, reminiscing over the small, yet overlooked, privilege of listening to music. A stray thought passing randomly in her head, reminded her that she had probably missed the new album of her favourite bend, and she had to take a break in order not scowl too much.

She had barely finished to set everything up when her first client appeared.

Telin was hunched over a crate, sifting through what was left to decide what to put out, when a pair of feet appeared in her visual; the feet had legs, though hidden away under a robe, and the legs were attached to a whole person.

“Hello there” she greeted amicably, raising from her crouch to smile at the mage that had accosted her wares.

“Hello to you, too. You must be new here, I’ve never seen you before” the woman greeted back kindly, a smile of her own reflected in her deep blue eyes.

“Yes, my name is Jul, and this is my first day here. I thought this would be the perfect place for my kind of business” Telin promptly replied, straightening the creases of her shirt.

“I’m Senior Enchanter Lyla, nice to make your acquaintance Jul” the woman introduced herself, and Telin actually noticed the greying hair crowning her head. She didn’t look as old as she probably were, given that she was a Senior Enchanter.

“My pleasure Senior Enchanter. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, squaring herself in the face of the challenge that had presented to her. Her heart had started to race a bit already…

“I was actually just perusing out of curiosity, but I see you indeed have a number of interesting wares” Lyla pointed out, her eyes following the line of containers, attentively reading all of the tags with the names.

“Indeed. I have some very thorough suppliers, with the right encouragement they can get me almost anything” Telin said with a smile, hoping she was selling it. She had never been the best at working with the public – that was her brother’s area of expertise – but her months with the Guild had at least given her the opportunity to work on her skills.

“That is good to hear. It is not an everyday thing to be able to purchase some of these ingredients. The Circle provides us with most of what we need, but the Templars and the Chantry are too stingy with their money, sometimes” she sighed.

Yes, it was easy to imagine. Telin also imagined that both authorities were reluctant into giving the mages potentially dangerous weapons to use.

“Mmh, yes, I would imagine so. But fear not, whatever you need, Jul here is probably gonna have it. For a price” the girl grinned, winking almost comically to the Enchanter. The elder woman chuckled good heartedly at that, her hands reaching for the coin purse at her belt.

“That is reasonable. How much for two bundles of Royal Elfroot, then?” the Enchanter asked, fingers raffling through the coins.

Telin hummed as she moved to take two bundles of the herb, rolling them up in a sheet of paper to protect them.

“Usually it would be thirty five silvers each, but because you are my very first client, these are on the house” she told the woman, handing the package over with a toothy smile.

Senior Enchanter Lyla accepted it with a bewildered look in her eyes, clearly surprised at the gift.

“Are you sure?” she asked, and her incredulousness made Telin chuckle.

“It’s an homage in hope for future business and good publicity, Senior Enchanter. It benefits me as much as you” she replied earnestly.

There wasn’t a quicker way to trust than giving people things for free.

The Enchanter’s face lit up in a grateful smile, and Telin knew she had scored. The first step had been taken, now she merely had to wait.

“That’s very kind of you, regardless. I’ll be sure to pass on word of your shop. I know of several Enchanters that are in need of very specific ingredients” Lyla assured her, offering a nod as a parting.

Telin watched the woman disappear inside with satisfaction.

 

It took almost two weeks of work at the Gallows before Cullen’s appointed suspect made his appearance.

In that time, Telin – now known to the resident mages and Templars as Jul – had met a different mix of both parties: mages usually looked for more rare herbs to add to their stock, while Templars had taken to come to her to stock on Elfroot for potions. She treated anyone who came her way with the same amount of respect and decency, and soon basically everyone knew that Jul was as reliable as just with her prices.

Telin knew when the man approached her; Cullen had pointed him out to her once or twice before, and she was ready to meet him.

The mage, whose name she knew to be Adrien, stopped at her stands with a thoughtful look on his face. He skimmed over the containers twice before he spoke up.

“Do you have some Felandaris by any chance?” he asked, not even bothering to lift his gaze to her as he did so.

“Well, hello to you too” Telin mused, arms crossed in front of her in mock annoyance.

At her words, the mage jumped up straight, eyes darting to her with no small amount of cringe in them, which made her chuckled lightly. Her pose relaxed immediately, hands resting on her hips to show she was not as despotic as she seemed.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been absorbed in my own thoughts for too long I-” he started to say, stopping himself half way through. A sigh left his lips before he tried again. “Good day, Serrah. I was wondering if you perhaps had some Felandaris? I’ve been trying to purchase it but with no success” he finally blurted, this time with more presence of mind.

“Well, that _is_ quite the purchase, after all. But fear not, I have some. It’s not exposed because it’s too hot for the plant to actually resist outside of a cooled container” Telin explained, crouching to recover the metal box from under the table. The container had been supplied with a frost rune, and beside being cold _af_ , it was a really convenient way of storing heat-susceptible goods.

“Of course! I should have thought about it!” Adrien reprimanded himself sternly. “The others were right when they told me you had practically anything” he then offered gratefully.

“They were, indeed. As I’ve said, my suppliers are _very_ thorough” she replied, smirking.

Well, it was time to see if her patience would be compensated.

“How much do you need? I’ve got a couple plants in here” she went on, setting the box on the stand.

“Mmh…I would require at least five to ten pieces of it…” he trailed off, probably making some speculation in his head for whatever project or recipe he was working on.

“Well, then this should be enough, I wager” Telin supplied, pushing the container towards the mage.

Adrien eyed the box, paused, and then sighed.

“I couldn’t possibly afford it even if I wanted. Felandaris is very expensive, isn’t it?”

Telin smirk only got broader, her fingers tapping pensively on the metallic surface.

“What if I told you that you could take this as a gift?” she began, arching an eyebrow suggestively when the mage shot her a surprised look.

“I can’t-”

She hold up a hand to stop him.

“We have some friends in common, it would seem. It would make me look bad if I weren’t able to supply you with what you need, no?”

There was a pause after her words, and she took her time in assessing the man’s reaction.

He was startled alright, but his eyes did not show the panic or guilt or danger she was expecting to see. Instead, a beat later, relief seemed to flood him.

 _This is unexpected_ , she mused. She would have thought suspicion to be the first reaction he would show, not relief.

Adrien turned around to look over his shoulder; after he had made sure that no one was near enough to overhear them, he promptly took the box from the table.

“It’s refreshing to know that the Underground can reach even here, Serrah” was all he said to her before walking away.

She blinked a couple times in confusion as she stared at his retreating back, but then she busied herself with tidying up her wares and taking inventory as she mulled his words over.

He had spoken of the _Underground_ , and though the word prickled at something in her head, she couldn’t quite place it.

Whatever it was, though, she wasn’t sure it was about Blood Magic. Adrien did not give off the “Blood Mage” vibe to her…

 _Jowan hadn’t either_ , her brain helpfully added.

That was true.

Telin decided to dig some more on this _Underground_ before jumping to conclusions; certainly, someone at the Guild would know what it was.

 

After the first bell of sundown, as instructed, Telin put her wares away and closed shop.

She returned to the city with one of the first boats, together with a bunch of other civilians returning home, and made it to the Guild in time for dinner.

The Common room was bustling with people as always, but she managed to find the ones she was looking for with just a glance. More than someone wiggled their eyebrows at her in a cheeky greeting when they saw her make her way to where Melchor was seated, and she promptly ignored all of them.

The whole of the Kirkwallers seemed to have nothing better to do than gossip about her since the night she had spent in the qunari’s room.

“Ah, the prodigy Herbalist has returned!” the big oaf greeted her with as much cheekiness as the others, sliding on his right to make room for her.

“Hardy-har, how very funny of you” she replied as she took her place on the bench. Immediately, a plate of food and some ale appeared in front of her, unprompted.

“How was your day?” Simmons asked from the other side of the table. “Anything new?”

Telin swallowed the potatoes she was munching on an nodded.

“I finally got to meet the mage the Knight-Captain suspected. He didn’t strike me as a blood mage, really, but he did mention something about an Underground? I hoped someone here could tell me what it was” she said, reporting the conversation she had had with Adrien.

Simmons brown eyes seemed to light up in recognition, and Telin was glad she had shared the information with him.

“He was probably referring to the Mage Underground, then. Here in Kirkwall there are a lot of people who sympathize with the mages, and some citizens actually help rebel mages escape. I heard that some of those who managed to stay hidden have formed "the mage underground," a network that feeds and shelters escapees and even transports apostates into remote areas of the Free Marches, beyond the reach of the Templars” Simmons explained, and Telin raptly listened.

Now that he mentioned that, her brain seemed to vaguely remember some of it. It wasn’t rare for a Circle to have escapees, and several were the organizations that helped the runaway mages, if one knew how to make contact with them. It made sense that there would be one in Kirkwall as well.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard something similar. Maybe what the Knight-Captain was preoccupied was a Blood Magic conspiracy is just the Underground causing some ruckus in the Circle. It is a possibility to explore” Melchor pointed out, and she found herself in agreement with him.

It was also convenient that she seemed to know someone implicated.

“Thanks. I’ll look into it tomorrow, I’m sure I can sniff somebody out that knows about the Underground” she chimed in, taking another bite from her roast.

“Should we inform the Knight-Captain?” the qunari asked, but Telin shook her head.

“No, I want to look into this before we give him any information. I’d hate for him to jump to his own conclusions and go on a tranquillity spree by Meredith’s order” she replied grimly, knowing that it was a real possibility. If she had a way of making the Underground lay low for a while, ceasing their ‘rescue efforts’ for the time being, she would try.

“Yeah, we _definitely_ don’t want that.”

 

The day after, she went to work at the Gallows as she had for the past two weeks. There was no point in dropping the whole façade just because of a tip. Maybe the Underground thing would turn out to be nothing, and she couldn’t afford to lose the cover she had worked so carefully on.

She had a pretty busy day, all things considered: in the morning, a bunch of apprentices hoarding on Elfroot for some kind of potion brewing contest had stormed the stalls with a couple of Enchanters and Templars on tow; at lunch, Senior Enchanter Lyla stopped by to offer her a sandwich. By the end of the afternoon, Telin was completely out of Elfroot. When the bell chimed, she had already put everything away.

It would have taken her too much time to go back to the Guild to suit up, and so, once she arrived at the docks, she made a bee-line for Darktown in her civvies.

She avoided the most problematic groups no problem, and mercifully arrived at Anders’ clinic unscathed.

As always, the place was filled with all kinds of people requiring aid from the Mage, so Telin stood quietly on the side lines until the majority of the crowd had dispersed.

Anders noticed her around half an hour later her arrival, and she was somewhat put out to see the glare he had thrown her way. When he was moderately free to talk with a modicum of privacy, he waved her over.

“I’m sorry to bother you Anders, I know you’re always pretty busy” Telin said as a way of greeting, stopping next to him where he was taking stock of the inventory.

“Didn’t stop you from coming, I see” he replied pretty icily, at which she frowned. Had she done something bad to him? Beside knowing almost everything of his life, that was.

“I sense some animosity there. Is there something you would like to share?” she asked, mimicking both his tone and coldness. She was not about to be on the other end of his bed temper with no reason.

Anders stopped his work, and turned to her with a full on glare he usually reserved only for Templars or Fenris.

“Like your newfound _friendship_ with the Templars, you mean?” he replied, almost seething on the word as if it burned his tongue to say.

"Ah, so that's why you're acting like I've killed your cat, is it. Maybe I shouldn't have come to someone so easily offended to ask for help. I'll just tell Knight-Captain Rutherford that the man he suspects of blood magic is indeed helping other mages escape the circle. And here I was trying to prevent an innocent got punished..." Telin trailed off, laying the bait as she moved to leave the Clinic. Of course she wasn't going to tell Cullen yet, but Anders did not need to know that.

Let him believe she was serious if he really wanted to be petty with her.

A hand darted to grab her arm as she passed him on the way out, and Telin turned back with the most uninterested expression painted on her face.

"Are you really trying to help mages? Even if you’re working for the Templars?" He asked, maybe with a bit too much force. Telin saw his eyes flash blue for the briefest of seconds, before they turned back to their natural deep brown.

“The Knight-Captain paid for the services of the Guild, and I’ve been assigned to the job. He suspects a blood magic ploy, but I’m not sure. I’ve been working under false pretenses at the Gallows to try and find clues, and so I did. The mage who has been marked as the prime suspect is working with the Mage Underground, sounds familiar?”

The hand that was still clamped on her arm fell limply to his side, but his face seemed to regain its composure. Anders took a step back and nodded.

“You’re part of it, right?” she asked, waiting for the confirmation.

When Anders nodded again, Telin sighed in relief. It was always a good sign when the knowledge she seemed to have matched the truth.

“Now, would you mind coming back to the Guild with me? I want to talk to you about that, but I’m not sure this is the right place for that conversation. At least at the Mansion we’re going to be far from wandering ears” Telin proposed, actually eager to know more about this supposedly secret organization and how it operated. But her main objective was to convince Anders to either talk to the main body or help her get in contact with them, so that she could warn them of the dangers.

The healer considered her offer for a moment longer before sighing in defeat.

“I’ll come. Let me wrap things up here before we go” he agreed, throwing a look over his shoulders where the last of the patients still lingered.

“I’ll help” Telin told him, following him with a smile.

With two people, they made short work of tidying up the clinic, putting away everything that could be used again, and throwing away all disposable waste. Herbs and salves were stored back in the cupboards, and Anders was surprised at her familiarity with them as she quietly murmured their names to herself while putting them back. She told him she was running a small business with herbs up in the Gallows, offering even to resupply him if he ever ended up needing something more specific than Elfroot.

Once everything was seemingly in place, Anders led Telin outside before closing the doors and turning the lanterns off with a flick of his wrist.

“Well isn’t that just handy” Telin chuckled as she observed the simple movement. It seemed mages were all bent on using their magic even for the more fickle of actions, but she couldn’t blame them. Had she been a mage, she would have done the exact same thing.

“It is. Though it might surprise you to know that such small and precise use of magic usually requires more control and technique than lighting up a house on fire” Anders explained as they started walking towards one of the exists of the slum. “Not every mage is able to light a candle without melting it” he continued, smiling a bit, as if he was remembering something that might have once been a funny memory.

Telin thought it over for a minute, realizing that the same could be applied to virtually anything.

“I should be pleased to have so many talented mages in my acquaintances, then” she replied with a chuckle. It was true, though she had never really doubted the talent of any of them; she knew what Hawke, Anders and even Merrill were capable of, and even Melchor, though he had never outright used any fleshy spells in front of her, exuded an aura of power that could be felt every time he entered a room.

“Sweet talker” Anders scoffed in humor at her side, and she was pleased to see a bit of his trademark character make its way out.

Comfortable silence fell quietly over them as they kept walking their way through the streets of Lowtown. Telin’s mind was busy with two different tasks: on one hand, she was trying to come up with a strategy to convince Anders on the whole Underground business, while on the other she was figuring if asking him personal questions would cause the mage to close up further. She decided she would take the risk as they reached the infinite stairwell that led to Hightown.

“Anders, can I ask you a question?” she asked, her voice calm and steady to avoid alarming him, though it bore no trace of humor or snark in it.

Anders’ brows furrowed, darkening his eyes considerably. It was obvious he was still suspicious of her motives, and Telin couldn’t really blame him. That was perhaps the first time they engaged in something a bit more drawn out than a simple greeting, and the first time Hawke was not around to bring them together.

“Let’s hear it” he finally replied, turning his head back to watch his footing on the dreaded staircase.

Telin bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, struggling with herself to just say what was on her mind; but it was useless to debate, really. She had shown them all her cards the first time they met, what use was there in hiding her knowledge?

“If you could separate yourself from Justice, letting him return to the Fade – would you?” she finally blurted out.

The question hanged in the air between them for what felt like an eternity, and the mage gave no hint of a reply until they had reached the top of the stairs, their feet now touching the worn out stones of the Hightown’s Market square.

“Even if I wanted, there’s no way to remove Justice from myself, which renders your question void” Anders replied surly in the end, something that felt like defeat hanging in the air around him.

So maybe there was a part of him that wanted out of the deal he had made with the Spirit, it was something.

“That’s not true, there is a way!” she found herself say, totally unprompted, as if her brain had bypassed her will and took over her mouth directly to express the thought.

Anders’ head whipped towards her, eyes big and bright with both fear and hope shining in them.

“Is there really?”

_Oh boy…_

“Yes. I think… _fuck._ I’ve no idea, honestly. I feel like I should know about it, or at least about someone who knows but --” she was cut off by a sudden wave of nausea hitting her like a train coming out of nowhere, as if her own body was telling her off from reaching the piece of information she was looking for.

 _You’re not ready yet_ , was what it was telling her.

The healer in Anders reacted almost immediately, his hands reaching each for either side of her head, glowing blue with magic. A cool feeling spread through Telin, familiar yet never felt before; it was as if she could _taste_ the difference between his magic and Melchor’s.

Pain receded fairly quickly, and as suddenly as the nausea had come, it faded away, leaving behind no trace of the thought she was trying to chase.

Anders seemed to study her as she engaged in an internal debate, his own head coming to conclusions on the episode he’d just witnessed.

“Is that what happens when you… _go looking for information_?” he asked, cringing lightly at not having found a better way to phrase it. “Hawke told us you said is like going to a library to read a book, but I’ve never seen someone in actual pain over reading” he said, then paused with a pensive look on his face “aside from when I had to read the Chant for _hours_ ” he added with a smirk, eliciting a chuckle from Telin.

“It usually is like that, yes. Sometimes though I have to fight to reach what I need, others the information just fall on my head unprompted. Either way, it usually means headaches and nausea. Thanks for the healing, by the way” she elaborated, trying to simplify the process as much as she could. She probably wasn’t giving them the credit they deserved for their own intelligence, but she wasn’t’ exactly convinced they would be _too_ familiar with some of the concepts she used to justify the whole ordeal to herself.

Anders waved away her thanks, and focused on the important part of her speech.

“So you know of a way to separate Justice from me, but you have no idea who this something actually is” he echoed her own words, a bit of humorous exasperation coloring his.

Telin offered a sheepish smile as a hand rubbed at the back of her neck almost unconsciously.

“That’s pretty much it, yes. Though I’ll keep trying to look for more, I promise” she said with confidence, sure that if she prodded her mind hard enough, she would be able to find more. “I know we don’t know each other well, but trust me when I say you won’t like what happens when Justice takes over…” Telin confessed, voice thin as she played the images of the Chantry explosion in her head.

Anders didn’t deserve to become the monster that Vengeance would turn him in.

“I, uh…don’t know what to say.”

Telin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“You don’t have to say anything Anders. Now c’mon, the Guild is right over there.”

 

The part of the guild that was always open to the public was empty and eerily silent, a stark difference from the debauchery she knew was taking place in the common room. A fire was roaring in the heart of the main room, bathing the walls in an inviting orange hue.

“This is…big” Anders commented upon setting foot inside, nose up in the air as he looked at the size of the room.

“Indeed. And no, you _never_ get used to it” Telin joked, leading both of them to the two-way stairwell and up one floor.

“Where are we going, exactly?” the mage asked with a small amount of apprehension.

“To the kitchen, obviously. I’m starving” she said with a grin as her stomach rumbled in agreement. She hadn’t eaten anything since the sandwich that Senior Enchanter Lyla had offered her for lunch, and now she could probably eat the whole kitchen without regrets.

Anders seemed in no better condition than herself, and she found she wouldn’t be surprised if he had skipped lunch altogether.

They walked one of the many hallways deep in the belly of the mansion, and reached the kitchen just as the cook was returning with a handful of empty plates.

Moran was a burly man with big hands and an even bigger smile, he loved his job and took extra care to feed every member every time he could. If you skipped a meal, he would take it upon himself to either lecture you, or bring you food; sometimes he did both.

He smiled with enthusiasm when he saw Telin approach, and immediately offered her and her guest a seat in his kitchen.

“I haven’t seen ya to supper lassie! Out workin again?” he asked as he ushered them inside, where three different pots were still boiling and bubbling on the stoves. It wasn’t a joke when she said he was _always_ cooking something.

“Yeah, I had a someone to pick up along the way” she replied, hopping on one of the stools at the counter and nodding for Anders to join her.

“Aaah, and is this pretty thing ya _someone_?” he went on, wiggling his bushy brows at her. “Does the Boss know?” he went on, eying Anders with a dirty look.

Telin rolled her eyes, seemingly unfazed by the implication. It was already old news, and still the guild gossiped. All speculations, but they enjoyed their bets nonetheless.

“The Boss is not my nanny, and he’s the one who gave me this job to begin with. Now, would you kindly feed us so my informant won’t starve before I’ve asked him what I need to know?”

Moran bellowed a laugh that echoed on the kitchen walls, approving of her temper as always. He loved to tease, as did virtually _every single member_ of the Kirkwallers, but he knew where to draw the line.

“Aye, here you go then. I’ll be over there with the dishes if ya need anything” Moran told her, setting two plates filled at the brim with fresh of the oven olive bread, cheeses of all kinds, and those lovely bitter sweet preserves of which Moran would never divulge the recipe.

Telin dig in with no reserves, hungry as a bear, while Anders blinked at the plate.

“Som’in wro’n?” Telin asked with her mouth full, though she had the decency of covering it with a hand as she chewed on some cheese.

“Oh, no! I was just – is every member of this guild this… _colorful_?” he found himself asking, looking back to where the cook had disappeared in the adjacent room, the splashing of water reaching them along with the humming of an old Fereldan tune.

Telin almost choked on her food as a burst of laughter erupted in her throat, and she had to swallow quickly to avoid dying. She coughed for a moment before recomposing herself.

“That’s one way of putting it, yes” was her reply. She jumped down the stool to reach for a pitcher full of water and two cups, setting them down in front of their food.  “But everyone’s different. We are a big melting pot, I’d say” she went on, finding no better definition to describe what the guild was. They were a diverse bunch: elves, humans and dwarves of every sex and age mixed together, mages, rogues, fighters…there were even some former templars! Well, and her, the _out-worlder_. They also weren’t _all_ assassins, as she had learned; some where spies, other acted as mercenaries when the need arose, there were even those that had been undercover for so long that basically never returned to the Guild. Assassins were a part of the skill set that the Kirkwallers offered, but their political power was maybe the most infamous thing that could be attributed to them. Not even the Merchant Guild meddled with them anymore, Simmons had told her.

“I bet, if that qunari partner of yours is any indication” Anders commented, finally digging in his plate as well.

Telin huffed.

“Melchor is the exception to the rule, honestly” she scoffed at the thought of the man. “But let’s not dilly dally around, yeah? I brought you here to talk about the Underground” she said then, cutting off on the small talks. It was getting late, and she needed to do this before Anders left.

“What do you know about it?” he asked, his attention divided between the conversation and the food he was slowly but steadily scarfing down.

“Not much beside that is an organization of mages and non-mages that work to help those in the Circle and outside of it. I heard that they are very good at not being found, thus being a great pain in the ass for the Templars, who are renowned to be anything _but_ sneaky. Other than this, I have no clue. I don’t know who’s part of it, how big it is or how it operates” Telin told him, reasoning that she really knew next to nothing of them.

“But you know I’m part of it” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yup. So here’s the thing: the Knight-Captain suspects blood magic is behind the sudden disappearances of several mages, meaning the cover of the Underground has not been compromised this far. But the more people you’ll try to get out, the more you’ll convince the Order to act upon it. They still have their phylacteries, which means that they could eventually find them; and we both know what will happen then. The same thing is going to happen to all who are suspected of foul play. Meredith is not known for being merciful. What I want you to do, if possible, is to tell whoever’s in charge to lay as low as possible; cease the rescues completely, for the time being. Once you give me the all clear, I’ll tell the Knight-Captain that the threat has been eradicated” she explained, laying her plan of action in front of him.

Anders looked pensive for a long while as he thought it all over, though he kept chewing on pieces of cheese as he did so.

In the end, he sighed.

“I still don’t have that much influence with them, but I guess my work is respected enough. If you tell me I can drop the name of the Guild in there to help, then I think we’ll have a chance. But are you really sure it’s wise to lie to the Templars? And what of the man that the Knight-Captain suspects?”

Telin took a deep breath; that was where things got complicated.

“You can use all of the leverage you need, and I’ll find something to cover for Adrien. As I understand it, not even the Order dares going against the Guild’s word, so we should be fine. I’ll take this to my boss anyway, just in case it blows back in our faces. I’m sure he has fail-safes in place for just these occasions.”

The mage looked at her with something heavy in his eyes, regarding her with a strange seriousness that felt almost alien on him.

“You are an oddity, you know that?” he finally said, an undertone of entertainment coloring his words. Telin smirked, taking the compliment with all the grace she could muster.

“Sweet talker” she said back, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips.

“Well then. Let’s finish eating lest Moran gets angry at us, then you can crash in one of the guest rooms if you don’t feel like going all the way back to Darktown” Telin instructed him, turning back to her own half empty plate.

She felt satisfied with herself, knowing she had managed to complete the task she had set out to do. One part of her was itching to go find Melchor to tell him, if only to feel the weight of his hand as he patted her head for a job well done. She swallowed the feeling with a piece of bread and jam, ignoring the way her stomach churned at the thought.


	21. Shepherding Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Chantry Sister, A Templar and A Sarebaas walk in to a bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second to last chapter before the end of ACT 1!  
> Here you can admire all my "love" for one specific Chantry Sister, and more!  
> Also, ladies and gents, we are finally sailing this ship!  
> Enjoy
> 
> This chapter has been reviewed ;)

“-and then I jumped in! You should have seen the expression on the Templars’ faces, ah! _Priceless_!” Anders concluded, laughing really hard as he retold one of his many escape tentative. His tankard swayed with the rumble of his laughter, the contents sloshing a bit over the edge and on to the table.

Telin joined him in his merriment, smiling and taking a pull of her own drink.

The Hanged Man was quieter than its usual, though it was still packed almost to capacity. It seemed the night was going to be a calm one, with several patrons drinking by themselves or in small groups, giving no indication whatsoever to any degree of rowdiness. But, the night was still young, and Hawke was still absent.

Telin and Anders had agreed to meet to celebrate a job well done; the mage had managed to convince the Underground to momentarily pull out of the Circle, and she had succeeded in her endeavour to persuade Cullen that there was no threat of Blood Magic, at least for the moment.

“I can imagine,” she snorted, settling the tankard back on the rickety table “though I would have loved to be there to witness it” she added, giggling. She had a slight idea of what they would have looked like, remembering a very specific shocked yet indignant look on her English teacher’s face that one time.

"Well, isn't this a lovely picture!" Sinead's voice rang from the entrance of the place, turning several heads in the process. Telin and Anders were amongst those, and they both smiled sheepishly as the other mage approached their table, followed by a bored-looking Carver.

"Hey Hawke, care to join? We're just celebrating a job well done" the girl offered, motioning to the still empty chairs next to her. The elder Hawke arched an eyebrow with some curiosity as she took her place on her side, while Carver didn't even bother to spare a word as he sat in the one further from his sister.

"I didn't know you two were working together" she said, waving a hand at Norah as she passed by to place a new order.

"Not in the strict sense; our interests seemed to have crossed, so we had to work together to resolve the situation" Telin explained vaguely, aware that it wouldn't be a wise choice to so publicly blabber about the Underground.

"Telin here is really good at what she does, she played one under the nose of the Knight-Captain!" Anders cheered, raising his flagon again to bump it against Telin's. She grimaced a bit at his enthusiasm, not really proud of her deceiving. She would have preferred a solution that was truthful to all parties, but unfortunately she was aware of the impossibility. At this point in time, Cullen would probably have disregarded her words and acted on his Commander's words, causing more harm than the Underground was worth. Telin was conflicted about lying to Cullen at all, but she hoped she could steer the Templar towards a more gentle end of his faith in the Order...

"Weren't you working _for_ the Knight-Captain?" Hawke asked, and she shrugged.

"Technically, yes. What's important is that the job is concluded and all parties are satisfied" or that was what Melchor had told her, at least. She had gone to him the day after her meeting with Anders, to consult with him and bring him up to date with the information. He was on board with her plan, even praising her for her good thinking, and didn't reprimand her for acting of her own accord without going through him before. The job was hers, he said, and as such she had all the freedom to come up with her own solutions.

"Until the next one shows up" Carver helpfully supplied from his sulking corner, taking a good swing at the drink Norah had served.

"Well, someone's cheerful today" Telin commented, throwing a glare towards the younger Hawke. "Though I'm inclined to agree with you, sadly. The Circles will never be without problems-"

"Until there are Templars" Anders butted in, cutting her off midsentence.

"No Anders, until the Chantry takes its head out of its own ass. Templars are just an instrument of their will, the armed hand to the mind of profiteers. They proclaim fear in the name of the Maker, but no God worthy of such name would ever discriminate against its followers. Templars are just the result of a thorough indoctrination, and they are leashed to the Chantry like the Mages are leashed to the Circles. Tell a child that magic is bad often enough, and they'll grow up believing it true. And since there are no mages outside the Circles to demonstrate that magic is not inherently evil, they will keep believing that mages are secluded because they deserve it. So you see, it's not as simple as getting rid of the Templars.”

 

"And here I though Tevinters did not care about the southern Chantry" another voice jumped in the conversation cheerfully. Varric strolled over to their table with a mischievous smile on his lips, and Telin found herself sagging a bit into her chair. She should have known that sooner or later someone would catch wind of her supposed background.

"You're pale for a Tevinter" Hawke snorted, curious more than anything at the newly acquired information.

She sighed, debating with herself for a moment on whether to tell the truth or keep her cover story up.

"Well, and you're dark for a Fereldan" she finally settled on, shrugging.

"Ah - of course. Should have known" Varric commented, taking up the only other seat left. "It's never _that_ simple with you 'Wallers, is it" he added, mirroring the exact same gesture Hawke had made to call for the waitress to bring him his usual.

"Yeah well, I fear the truth is far more complicated than it's worth to share" Telin tried to downplay her hand nonchalantly.

" _More_ complicated than coming up to us and saying: 'You don't know me but I know how you'll die' ?" Carver piped up, looking at her with unconcealed skepticism over the ale he was nursing.

"Junior has a point, Riddle" Varric readily agreed, always eager to have as much of the story as he could.

"Maybe I'll share it, someday. For today, let us just drink, aye?" she deflected, raising her own tankard to initiate a toast. "To surviving another day and getting awfully well-paid!" she cheered, grinning cheekily when the others joined her with a laugh.

 

The night eventually picked up from there, and the group soon moved to Varric's room to accommodate the newcomers. Bela and Merrill joined them some time later after their toast, followed by Aveline, who brought with her a as per usual brooding Fenris. Together they played a couple rounds of Wicked Grace, bickered over all kinds of matters, and made plans for the day ahead. It seemed that Hawke had accepted to help a mother look for her son, a young elven boy who had escaped in order to avoid being sent to the Circle upon discovering his magic. Sinead and Carver had already talked with the boy's father, and would pursue the trail the following day. Telin graciously declined the invitation extended to her, claiming that she would need some time to settle some loose ends now that her job had been completed.

They rendezvoused back at the Hanged man the night after, and by the looks on their faces, Telin immediately could guess the outcome of their little expedition.

Feynriel had been rescued without much fuss on either part, but then Hawke had refused to send him to the Circle, fearing for what might happen to him under the hands of the Templars. Instead, she had directed the boy to where the Dalish were camped and had sent him on his way. By the looks of it, it wasn't hard to know how the group's opinions were divided; Fenris obviously disagreed, while Anders seemed pleased with the freedom of another mage. Telin avoided taking any parts, knowing that whatever the case, the boy wouldn't be safe forever.

“It's pointless arguing about it. Feynriel is safe, and that's all that matters. I'm sure Keeper Marethari will take good care of him" Sinead said in the end, putting a stop to the circular, and seemingly endless discussion before it could escalate in something worse than bickering.

"Agreed. Though I have another probably controversial topic to share" Varric piped in, promptly extracting a piece of rolled parchment from the front pocket of his shirt. "I've got wind of a Chantry Sister looking for help to smuggle something out of the city, thought it was right up our alley" he informed the group, handing the letter to Hawke. The mage studied the lines for a second, then passed it along to Telin with a grimace.

"Does that tell you anything? I would avoid getting involved with the Chantry, if I can help it" Sinead told her earnestly, and she really couldn't disagree with her.

Telin read the missive quickly, but it was pretty vague, only gossip. No name, no indication of anything that could trigger a memory.

"Sorry, no idea. Could be legitimate though. How much is she offering for the help? If the price is worth it..." She trailed off, shuffling the piece of paper down the line for the others.

"Around ten sovereigns?" Varric threw there, pleased with himself when he noticed Hawke's eyes bulge.

"That's just how much we need for the expedition" she replied, sighing in defeat. "Ok. Where can we find this overly rich and highly suspicious Chantry Sister?"

"Lowtown, where else."

 

Telin joined Hawke, Merrill, Isabela, and Carver to where Varric had said the Sister was waiting for them. It turned out she was hiding right opposite to where the Hawkes lived, but no one besides Merrill seemed surprised of it. Kirkwall was one big smuggling hole from the time of the Imperium, after all.

They knocked on the door twice in a row, and waited. The minutes ticked by, but no one came to open. When they finally decided it was best to leave it, the decrepit wooden slab that worked as a door inched open.

"Are you Hawke?" A familiar yet never before heard voice asked. There wasn't enough space to clearly make out who was on the other side, but Sinead still nodded.

"Come in then, all of you" the voice hurried them, cracking the door completely open. They quickly piled in the small front room, freezing when they spotted a Templar standing in a corner.

“If this is an ambush, Sister, you've chosen the wrong crowd" Hawke commented coarsely, hands already burning bright, ready to cast at a moment’s notice.

"Still yourself _mage_ , he is not here for you" the Chantry Sister brushed her off, her voice betraying her sympathies very clearly, as she rounded on them after barring the door. When she came into view under the light of the burning candles, Telin felt her blood heath up.

"I'm -"

"Sister Petrice" Telin seethed, finishing the sentence instead. The Chantry Sister glared at her with the intensity of a thousand suns, and she felt herself return the sentiment.

"I thought you didn't know who she was" Hawke said, her defensive stance back in place at Telin's sudden change of demeanor.

"I do know now. It is no _goods_ that she wishes to smuggle outside the city" Telin went on accusingly.

"If not goods, what do you want out of Kirkwall so fervently?" Sinead demanded.

Sister Petrice kept her abrasive glare on Telin for a few more moments before nodding to the Templar. The man disappeared in the back room, the rattling of his own armor soon followed by the one of chains. Telin knew what to expect, but felt dread crawl down her spine nonetheless; she was used by the sight and nearness of qunari by now, but she had never seen a Sarebaas in person. More than his size, what chilled her blood was his appearance: his horns were cut to the base, his eyes were covered, his mouth was stitched close and both his wrists and neck were bound and chained. She wouldn’t disagree that mages were dangerous, it was a fact, but to treat them as _things_? Her stomach coiled, and by the look of it, Hawke’s did the same. Her group was rightly wary of the imposing presence of the qunari, having met Tal-Vashot and the likes, but even more so for the implications of what his presence entailed.

“This is my burden of charity,” the Sister began, casting a pitiful glance towards the bound mage that made Telin snarl “would even a Templar bind a mage like this?” she asked, probably rhetorically.

She had to cover her indignation with a scoff to avoid replying; given free reign, Meredith would have probably done the same if not worse to each and every one of her charges.

“This is Ketojan, he was the only one of his unit to survive an encounter with the Tal-Vashot outcasts” Petrice continued undeterred, seemingly unperturbed by Telin’s scowl. “What I ask of you, is to escort him outside the city and to freedom; I will not see him returned to his brutal kin to face death. It is not what he deserves. I know that the Viscount is convinced that peace begins with appeasement, but mages have suffered enough, don’t you agree?” the Sister finished, clearly satisfied with her little act.

Telin threw a meaningful glance Hawke’s way, but she could see that the woman’s words had had the desired effect on the mage. She sighed; could she, in all honesty, have expected anything less? There were not many mages who would leave another of their kin to suffer.

But Telin was determined not to fall in the trap, even if it meant antagonizing Sinead.

“No,” she announced sternly, taking a step forward, “the only thing you want is to cause a diplomatic accident to satisfy your sick xenophobic views. This mage is free to go on his way if he wishes, but we will not aid you. And that’s final” Telin stressed her refusal, pointedly looking at Hawke.

In return, the mage looked back with outrage in her eyes.

“Are you suggesting we leave him to his fate? Are you that cruel?” she cried out in anger, something of the picture she had made up in her head about Telin breaking slightly.

“I’m _pragmatic_ , it’s different. This is clearly a set up, can’t you see it?” she replied with the same amount of heat.

“I don’t care if this is a trap or a set up, I’ll do it. If you don’t want to help, feel free to _leave_ ” Sinead finally put her foot down, overruling the decision that Telin had no authority whatsoever to make.

“Maker bless you, Serrah, you are truly a kind soul” the Sister exclaimed, clearly enthusiast to have found the fool to execute her plan.

Hawke nodded.

“We’ll be leaving now, then.”

 

 

Telin didn’t remember much of what happened after she decided to remain with Hawke and help her. It was all very much a flurry of memories, up until the point she found herself with a spear through her leg. The same could be said of the journey from the coast back to the city; she was somewhat aware that Carver was carrying her on his broad shoulders, and that Hawke had set a quick pace for the group, but everything else was pretty hazy. 

Merrill had made a pretty crude job at stopping the blood flow with her magic, but the solution was more than just temporary, as she was anything but a healer. The wound needed to be reopened and then sealed properly in order to heal correctly and without the risk of infections. Which, to Sinead, meant going straight to Anders’ clinic; Telin vaguely recalled steering her towards the Guild, instead, knowing that Melchor could heal her just as easily. It wasn’t a skill he made a point of advertising much, but she knew he could do it – had done it on several occasions actually, when she had injured herself during her training with Athras. He would certainly put her back on her feet – quite literally. The blade of the spear had gone through her tight, missing her femoral artery by mare inches, leaving behind a gruesome – yet clean cut. Despite the _simplicity_ of the wound, it hurt like a bitch, the pain strong enough to numb the edges of her consciousness; which was probably for the best, really.

And so, she barely noticed Hawke barge in through the front doors of the Guild, shouting for help, equally missing the voice – that sounded suspiciously like Moran’s – that came back in reply.

Telin did not realize when the two siblings were granted access to the inner parts of the Mansion under the haste of the situation, nor she picked up on the confused looks she received when Moran addressed Melchor as ‘The Boss’.

What she _did_ take notice of, though, was the string of curses that left the qunari’s mouth when they reached him, his voice unmistakable even in all the fuss they seemed to have stirred.

Melchor quickly directed them to his own chambers, prompting Carver to leave Telin on his bed. He quickly washed his hands thoroughly in one of the basins he kept in the room, then approached her with blown eyes and worry written all over his handsome features. Immediately, his hands were on her, glowing a familiar blue against her bloodied skin.

Relief washed through her with the strength of a wave crushing against the rocks of cliff, and she found herself able to breathe and think with much more ease than before.

“Thanks” she sighed finally, when the fog of pain had cleared altogether from her mind.

In front of her, Melchor scowled as he knelt down to exam the gaping wound on her left tight.

“What in the Maker’s name happened to you?!” he demanded as his magic started to probe the wound.

Telin opened her mouth to reply, but Sinead anticipated her.

“We had a run-in with some Qunari; she caught one of their spears with her leg” she told him drily, her own joke falling flat even to her own ears. Humor was not the solution to work through the frenzy she had worked herself in, but old habits were always hard to break…

“You mean Tal-Vashot?” Melchor asked, to clarify the distinction as if they didn’t know any better.

“No – Telin began, wincing mid sentence as his magic slowly pried her flesh open, leaving behind a stinging sensation – these were members of the Antaam” she elaborated, watching his face fall even further, his brows pinched in a tight frown in between his shadowed eyes.

He didn’t say anything for a long while as he kept working on her leg, attentively stitching muscles and skin where they belonged; then, when only a pink and scratchy scar remained, he spoke up once more.

“Thank you for bringing her to me, I owe you” he finally said, getting back up to his feet and facing both siblings with a bob of his horned head. “But if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to have a word with her, now” he explained, his voice holding a weight of command that neither Hawkes seemed able to refuse.

“Of course. We’ll see you when you’re better, ok?” Sinead agreed.

When brother and sister had said their goodbyes and had disappeared out the door, Melchor let go of an angry sigh.

“Do you care to tell me how you ended up fighting members of the Antaam, or should I just _guess_ , perhaps?” he asked, his words clipped and hard, definitely betraying his flaring temper.  

“We were helping a Sarebaas to – “

“ A _what_? Are you insane?!” he shouted, making her flinch at the sudden loudness.

“I knew it was a trap” Telin murmured guiltily, unable to look at him in the eyes as she confessed that. The strangled noise that came from him was all she needed to gauge his reaction.

“Is that supposed to make me _feel better_?” he asked, almost exasperated. “Because, in case you were wondering, it doesn’t!” he bristled , his hands unclenching at his sides to run through his long white tresses in an attempt to calm himself.

Finally, after what felt like an entire age, he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. What was done was done, it was futile getting angry for something he couldn’t change. The important thing was that Telin was safe and none the worse for wear.

“I swear, Kadan, you make me worry so fucking much…” he breathed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. He plopped down on the bed next to her, the mattress bending slightly under his weight, and leaned on her shoulder.

Telin took a second longer to metabolize his words, half of her ashamed and sorry to have made him worry so much, the other taking care to impress the moment to memory.

“I’m sorry, I tried to – ” her brain stopped her halfway through the sentence, pushing a very precise word at the front of her mind.

_Did he just call me – ?_

Yes, yes he had.

Kadan.

My heart.

Telin’s central computer showed her the blue screen of death for a split second before rebooting itself in an attempt to not blow up. Color raised to her cheeks as she walked through the implications of that simple, yet deeply meaningful word.

Kadan.

It wasn’t a term bestowed lightly among the Qun, but Melchor was Vashot – did it held the same weight and meaning to him?

She was silent for probably too long, because the mage lifted himself from her side, leaning forward to get a look at her face.

“You ok?” he asked, taking in the way both her neck and cheeks were flushed, but her eyes wouldn’t raise to meet his.

Telin considered his question, aware of the puzzlement in his voice, and imposed herself to calm down. He’d probably just called her that on the spur of the moment, without thinking about it. Or perhaps the word had a whole different meaning to him. Whichever the case, she shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, regardless.

“I’m fine, I promise. As I was saying, I tried to warn Hawke that helping the Sarebaas was dangerous, but she wanted to take the chance to help another mage. I still have no idea how the Chantry Sister managed to get her hands on him, but I do know why. Sister Petrice is a vicious agitator, who’s only objective is to disseminate dissent between the people she’s supposed to guide. The Antaam followed the trail she conveniently left for them, leading them to us. In the end it was all pointless; the Sarebaas chose to go back, and he died at the hands of the Arvaard . That’s when skirmish began, anyway. It was a pointless endeavor, but I let it happen anyway” Telin concluded bitterly, angered at both herself and the Sister. Despite her knowledge, she had stood by and watched as the seed of hate took root by the hands of a social climber without an ounce of respect for the lives she stomped on.

And it angered her further to know that she had no way of eradicating the Sister from the Chantry save from killing her…

And maybe that wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

A cool finger jabbed itself gently in between her eyes, easing out the creases of her frown. She turned to look back up at Melchor, noticing the intensity with which he was regarding her in that moment.

Her stomach churned, tightening itself into knots.

“What” she choked, suddenly very aware that she was sitting on his bed while still wearing her dusty and bloodied leathers and probably smelling, while he was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“You look as if you want to plant a dagger in someone’s back” Melchor replied matter-of-factly, and maybe even with a little bit of amusement in his voice.

“I know, and that’s because it’s exactly what I want to do” she countered, her scowl setting itself back in place as her resolution strengthen. If taking out Sister Petrice could, in any way, help avoid some of the bloodshed to come, she’d happily shoot an arrow in her heart.

“Kadan, _please_. Whatever you think you have to do – _don’t_ ” Melchor warned her, his hand moving away. He eyed her sternly, hoping that she would heed her words.

But Telin seemed impervious to everything he had to say, _all of it_.

It was the second time he had called her Kadan, and he was quickly losing confidence that she knew the meaning of it. Melchor was aware that he was being a bit of a coward in using such subtleties with her, but Simmons’ words echoed in his head; he had to make a step forward with her, make sure she could feel for him what he felt for her, and he hoped to prod in the gentlest of ways, if only to avoid misunderstandings or hurt on each side.

Telin, on her part, brushed the endearment aside, refusing to let it go to her head; she was almost completely sure he did not mean it the way she was hoping it would.

She knew the taste of disappointment all too well; it was an old friend she had no wish to any time soon – or ever again, if she could.

And besides, there were more important matters at hand that needed her attention, and her feelings were best left in the background if she truly wanted to accomplish her goal.

“You don’t understand, Melchor. Petrice is a menace, I _have_ to take care of her before it’s too late to act. We – the Guild – cannot touch neither the Chantry nor her, but a single individual acting independently would be able to do the job just fine” Telin insisted, raising from the bed in the vehemence of her speech. Her legs wobbled at the sudden weight, reminding her that she had barely just been healed from a severe injury. Melchor reached out to her, his hands gripping at her waist to keep her upright.

“Don’t make me order you to stand down, Telin” he breathed morosely, worry already snaking down his spine at the thought. It wasn’t the first time he saw her with such determination in her eyes, but there was something else there, an edge of danger that hadn’t been there before. He wondered for a moment whether such ruthlessness was his fault; he had been the one to insist to have her trained to kill, after all.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not going to change my mind on this. The only thing I can promise is that I will do the utmost to leave you and the Guild out of this; there will be no repercussion on you” she kept on going stubbornly, her mind made up.

She could already see how she was going to proceed with it: it would require some time to stalk the Sister and establish her routine, but she was confident she could succeed in her endeavor. All she needed was a window of time when the woman would be out of the Chantry, so that she could strike undisturbed.

Her attention was diverted back to the present when his big hands squeezed on her hips, dragging her forward. Telin braced herself against the sudden movement, her hands going to rest on his broad shoulders for support as she forcefully stepped in between his legs. Her breath hitched when she caught a glimpse of his face; Melchor was staring up at her with a searing intensity, his violet eyes burning with a feeling she had never before seen aimed at herself.

“Listen to me Kadan – I’m not worried about myself, or the Guild for that matter. It’s _you_ I don’t want to see in harm’s way. Do you understand?” he told her seriously, his gaze locked with hers in one last attempt to convey his feelings without spelling them out for her.

Melchor felt her tense like a bow string under his hands, her face betraying the tumult of thoughts whirling inside her head.

Telin was fighting an internal conflict between her heart and her mind; one part was screaming at her to ignore the blatant meaning behind his words, while the other was insisting that they were what she wanted them to be. After all, how did they say?

_One’s an incident;_

_Two’s a coincidence;_

_Three’s a pattern._

She hesitated for a moment longer, but in the end she settled on a decision. If there was one thing Thedas had thought her, it was that moments were fleeting , and inaction wasn’t a valid choice.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the inevitability of disappointment.

“When you call me _that_ ,” she begun, the fingers of one hand tangling themselves with the strands of white hair that fell over one shoulder, “do you mean it?” she finally asked, eyes flicking down to his mouth before trailing back up to his.

Hearing her acknowledge his words, Melchor felt something melt in the middle of his chest: relief, happiness, desire…he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Telin was looking at him with the most beautiful yet sorrowful expression he had ever seen; her eyes were full of hope and already resigned at the same time, as if she was expecting him to just stomp on her feelings.

In that moment, he knew she had given him the possibility of breaking her in a million pieces, baring herself to him.

But he had no intention to break her, if not maybe for all the right reasons.

Melchor felt her take a deep breath when one of his hands moved to cup her cheek.

“I mean it. You are Kadan” he said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if you were to get hurt, Telin” he added, his thumb brushing lightly on her bottom lip.

Telin was burning hotter than the sun, she was sure, with her heart beating mercilessly in her throat.

He meant it.

He was serious…

A sudden hunger bloomed in her stomach, and in a second she was yearning for more of everything.

“Kadan, _where the heart lies_ ” she said, answering a question he hadn’t voiced. Melchor smiled back, suddenly beaming.

“I was right then. You _do_ know what it means” he chuckled at his own expenses, glad to have persisted. Telin nodded meekly. “And yet you let me repeat it _three times_ before giving a reaction, how cruel” he said jokingly to tease her.

“I know the word and what it means _in the Qun_ ” she specified, “I wasn’t sure it held the same value to you.”

At that, Melchor was left speechless for a second.

Was it possible that she had never picked up on all the signals he had thrown her way up until that point? He was aware that his nature was one of teasing and humor, but to so surely dismiss all his attentions as just mere jokes was something else; something that gave him yet another insight on her character.

“Did you really assume that all my flirting was for naught?” he asked then, suddenly very serious.

Telin felt her cheeks darken one or two shades more, shame taking the place left vacant by her embarrassment. She knew she could be thick when it came down to truly assessing someone’s intentions towards her, but she usually always dismissed the interest shown to her as politeness or just a part of someone’s character.

No one had ever flirted with her _for real_ , and the few times she had believed it to be true, she had been let down. With time, she had learned not to build any expectation when it came to her personal interactions, romantic or else.

“I just – I thought you weren’t being serious, is all” she finally confessed with a weak shrug.

Melchor moved the hand on her cheek to cup her chin, drawing her forward until their foreheads rested against each other.

“I’m always serious when it comes to you, Telin” he told her in a breath, sighing in contentment as he hugged her closer.

“Maia” Telin whispered then.

Melchor moved back a breath to look at her, unsure of what to do with the word she had given him.

“That’s my name” she explained with a small smile, pleased to see the sparkle in his eyes.

“ _Maia_ ” Melchor repeated slowly, rolling the foreign name on his tongue. To him, it sounded sweet and soft, just like her.

Telin shuddered as she heard her name on his lips, something bittersweet unraveling inside her. It was good to hear her real name out loud after so long, even better when it was Melchor to call her that.

A surge of affection washed through her, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Her eyes flicked back and forth from his eyes to his lips a couple times, and when he caught her, he gave her a smug grin, well aware of what she wanted.

They leaned in almost imperceptibly, their mouths hovering just a breath away from each other – before a forceful knock on the door had them both scrambling back with a start.

“Melchor! Is Telin ok? I saw the two Hawkes leave, is she alright?” Simmons voice came from the other side of the door apprehensively.

The qunari let go of a deep breath, resting is head against her shoulder for a second before he gently moved her out of the way to get up.

“Yes, come on in!” he called back, taking Telin’s hand to lead her in the foyer with him.

The door opened immediately after, and Simmons sighed in relief when he saw Telin safe and sound next to Melchor. His eyes scanned her figure to examine her, grimacing as he noticed the amount of blood that stained the leg of her breeches; he trailed back up and down one more time before he was satisfied, and it was only then that he noticed how Telin’s hand was intertwined with Melchor’s.

He snorted.

“Well, looks like I needn’t have worried” he commented, resting his weight on one foot and eying the pair with something akin to satisfaction. “Glad to see you still standing, Telin” he offered with a nod, and then backtracked until he was out the room and the door had closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, wow, I made it.  
> I pushed this ship off shore.  
> I would like to thank the fresh air of Scotland and its breathtaking panoramas for all the inspiration, thank you very much.  
> Now, there will probably be one last long update to tie up ACT I before the end of the month, and once we get to November, I will pick this up as a NaNoWriMo project, to celebrate one year since I started it! So you can expect maybe short chapters to sail us from Act 1 to 2, but nothing significantly heavy, as I will be working daily (if I can, since I also have to write my thesis) on other things as well.  
> As always, I hoped you enjoyed, and I'll see y'all soon :D


	22. Saving Carver Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telin makes Carver a promise he can't refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, it's been a really loooooong time since the last update!   
> I'm not dead, I swear, I just had kind of a really rough couple of months where writing wasn't a priority for me anymore, then I had to finish my exams, prepare my thesis and finally, FINALLY, I managed to graduate last month.   
> So updates should return to be more frequent than once every six months!   
> That said, enjoy the end of Act I (sort of)!

It took Telin a couple days to come around to the Hawke’s house in Lowtown, and it wasn’t because she was still sore from her wound. Melchor had literally grounded her inside for both her recklessness and his own apprehension, at least up until she had been fed up with his patronizing act and had told him off.

Just because they had feelings for each other, it didn’t mean Telin expected to be treated any differently than her guild-mates; she had accepted her punishment for engaging without orders, but she wouldn’t stand being treated like a child in need of protection.

In the end, it wasn’t as if she had gone in the situation blind, and she accepted the results of her actions.

And so, there she finally was, knocking on the door to Sinead’s… _house_ , if it could be called that.

Noise from inside confirmed someone was home, and a moment later Carver’s broad shoulders appeared in the doorway.

“Hey Carver” Telin greeted him with a smile, genuinely happy to see him.

His brows shot up in a confused expression before his feature relaxed, acknowledging her presence.

“Hey, look who’s here. It’s good to see you’re back on your feet” he said, stepping outside and closing the door behind him; probably to keep her from seeing just how much _rundown_ the place was…

“What can I say, it was magic” she joked, chuckling at her own words like a five year old would have done. Ok, so maybe she _could_ be childish at times… “And thank you, by the way. For the carrying-me-around part. And the not-letting-me-bleed-out one as well” she continued. She might have been mighty dizzy because of both pain and blood loss, but she did remember a few key things.

Carver shrugged.

“My sword’s heavier than you” he replied, brushing off her thanks. Telin highly doubted that his broadsword weighted more than her, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. “And Merrill’s the one that stopped the bleeding” he went on, his expression carefully neutral as he mentioned the girl’s name.

Telin’s eyes sparkled with mischief at the sight, and she took his queue.

“Ah, right! Then you won’t mind bringing her my thanks, will you? Maybe even some flowers” she proposed, nonchalantly.

Carver, bless him, tried and miserably failed to hide his blush, sputtering his next sentence.

“I’m sure she’d like you to visit her” he hastily replied, desperate to put an end to the conversation or change the topic.

It was an entertaining sight, for sure, but Telin couldn’t really make fun of him. Not when she had been blushing like fool for the past three days every time Melchor was either named or entered a room.

“At any rate, if you’re looking for my sister, I’m afraid she won’t be back for a while. She went off playing ‘mage vigilante’ with Anders” he hurriedly steered the conversation, which in turn reminded Telin why she had gone to the Hawkes in the first place.

“That – doesn’t surprise me, actually. But it’s fine; I came to talk to you, anyway” Telin told him. “Mind walking with me? I think you’d want to have a drink after this conversation is over.”

Carver stared at her for a moment, trying to understand whether she was being serious or pulling his leg. After her sour expression did not break out in a cheeky smile, he decided she was not, in fact, joking.

“Sure, lead the way.”

They walked down the stairs, taking the long way around to the Hanged Man, both silent for a short while as Telin sorted her thoughts and Carver waited for her to speak up.

She had reflected hard on what she was about to do, and she had come to the conclusion that speaking with Carver was the right thing to do.

Now that Hawke had gotten all the money needed to be accepted as a partner for the expedition, it wouldn’t be long before they were all ready to set out; that meant that the fate of Carver Hawke now potentially rested in her hands. She could have either stayed silent, leaving things to work out the way they were supposed to, or she could interfere, bringing another option to the table.

At first, she had thought to go and talk to Sinead, explain to her the situation they were about to get into, but upon reaching the conclusion of that particular scenario, she had voted against it. As a second born herself, she knew she would have hated to have her brother decide her future in her place, and she was also fairly certain that the outcome would have just strained the already difficult relationship the siblings seemed to share.

Instead, Telin had decided to go directly to Carver, put his destiny in his own hands for once.

“So – about my whole _‘knowing the future’_ shazam… there’s something you should know” she began, throwing him a sidelong glance to judge his reaction. Carver looked worried, but was curious to know what it was all about. After all, it was a rare occasion that people went to him for something instead than to his sister.

“Going by your face right now, I guess it’s not something funny” he replied, in his signature dry humor.

Telin snorted.

“Has Sinead given the money to Bartrand, yet?” she asked, and the younger Hawke nodded.

“Yesterday” he confirmed.

“Then it won’t take much longer before they are ready to move. Now, indulge me: how badly do you want to go to the Deep Roads? I hear they are _really dreadful_ this time a year-“

“I will go with my sister, and I won’t change my mind” he interrupted her quite brusquely, scowling.

_Ah._

Then someone – his mother, probably – had already tried to persuade him not to go.

“Just listen to what I have to say, Carver. I won’t make the decision for you, but I will be honest: if you go with Sinead, there’s a chance you won’t be coming back, _at all_ ” Telin confessed, sighing. Surely there were better ways to break the news, but it was the first time she had to make such ominous recommendations.

But Carver seemed keen on dismissing her words completely.

“It’s the _Deep Roads_ , there’s a chance none of us will be coming back” he scoffed.

Telin stopped mid stride, grabbing him by an arm to make him stop as well.

“No, Carver, you don’t understand. If you go, and Anders isn’t with you, _you’ll die_ ; like, you’ll be a hundred percent dead!” she finally burst out, squeezing his forearm a bit forcefully.

At that point, Telin knew her words had registered; realization dawned on his features like a dark sheet, and his already fair skin seemed to pale even more.

“…and what if Anders is with us? I’m sure my sister won’t be opposed to the idea” he asked instead, choosing to focus on that detail of her speech.

Telin grimaced.

“The…taint, it will still get you, but Anders will manage to get you to the Wardens before it’s too late…” she told him, actually relieving the two different outcomes in her mind. “Either way, you’ll have to say goodbye to life as you know it” she went on, shrugging apologetically. Not that that was in any way her fault, but she did feel bad nonetheless.

Silence settled heavily between them, and when Carver started walking again, Telin simply followed.

It had to be a whole lot to process, no doubt, and she would give him all the time and space he needed to do that.

She could understand so very well what it felt to have such weight dumped over your head, she just hoped he could cope with it better than she had.

Almost a year had gone by since her arrival on Thedas, but not one day went by that Telin didn’t feel the crushing need to _just go home_ ; she hadn’t given up on finding a solution, and honestly, she was just waiting for the Antiquarian to give his invitation to the Black Emporium to Hawke. That would be her way in. She had tried to look for the entrance fruitlessly, and whoever she mentioned it to gave her the same reply: you can’t find it if it doesn’t want to be found.

She switched train of thoughts when the eerie sign of the Hanged man came into view as they rounded the corner; however the situation was going to end, at least she would know she had done her part to offer an alternative. But, ultimately, Carver was the one that would make it or break it.

It was early afternoon, and the patrons were few, but the two of them ordered to drink, going to take their place inside of Varric’s suite. The dwarf was – unsurprisingly – absent, but they knew he wouldn’t mind, as long as they didn’t go snooping around, of course.

They were well into their pint when Carver finally let go of a sigh.

“You ok?” Telin asked, genuinely concerned about his mental health; she knew it could be quite stressful to process  such load of information suddenly dumped on one’s head.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that, but yeah” he replied, taking a generous swing of his ale. “At least I know what my options are” he continued, scrolling his tout shoulders.

Telin made a face in reply, and Carver tensed once more.

“There’s more?” he asked, his voice coming off as strained, as he realized there was more than what she had told him already.

“There’s more” she confirmed with a curt nod. “Whether you go with your sister or stay home, your life’s gonna change; not necessary for the better, as I’ve told you. Normally I wouldn’t mess with this things, divulging information about future events” she told him, her hands tightening ever so slightly on the tankard, “but I felt you deserved to know, to make the choice willingly and not blindly.”

She was probably taking a risk in telling Carver of his possibilities, but she was going to use this as a sort of experiment; if Thedas wouldn’t implode because of her meddling, then it would mean she could intervene more often. Maybe. If she were lucky. Which she really wasn’t…

There was also the tiny detail of her conscience: knowing herself, she knew she couldn’t have lived with herself if something had happened to Carver… she had the ability to warn him, to help him; to chose inaction over the possibility of saving his life… she couldn’t have done that. Not to him, not to anyone.

In front of her, Carver sighed, placing his drink back on the table.

“Does Sinead know about this?” he asked, looking at her with an almost defeated expression.

Telin frowned.

“No. This concerns you, and you alone; no one else should be allowed to make such decisions but yourself” she explained to him, and was actually surprised to see how dumbstruck he looked at her words.

“I – thank you” he breathed out in the end, falling back against his chair. “I almost got too used to people bypassing me to go to my sister” he confessed sheepishly, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks as he said so.

“Sinead’s a _very_ charming woman, and she has the charisma of a natural leader, it’s normal to feel overshadowed” Telin said, matter-of-factly. Carver threw her a bit of a glare, and she hurried to make her point. “But you, Carver, have potential – and that’s why I have a proposition for you.”

 

“I appreciate your concern, but that’s not how it works.”

Telin frowned as she listened to her Boss’ reply to her request. She felt disappointment crawl under her skin, but her resolve did not weaver in the least. But her pitch would just crumble in front of a refusal; she was determined to at least get Carver a chance in the guild.

“Then explain to me how it _does_ work. I’ve been here for almost a year, and still know very little on how _this_ ” she paused for half a second, motioning to the dining hall with her hands, “is supposed to work” she told him in earnest.

Telin was aware her circumstances were…. rather _peculiar_ , but surely there was a way to get someone else a place among the Kirkwallers.

“There is a protocol to follow, _rules-_ ” Melchor begun, before a deep sigh coming from across the table had him stop. The big qunari glared at the little girl, and once she was chastised, resumed his explanation.  “ _but_ , I can put forward a name. From what I’ve seen, your friend is better suited to be an addition to our mercenaries, hence he’ll have to impress the Commander. If he makes a good enough impression, then he’ll be allowed to get a trial period to earn the mark” he finished.

The joy that lit her eyes up was almost enough of a reward for Melchor, and he hated himself a bit when he had to turned it down a few notches.

“Don’t get your hopes up just yet; the Commander is really strict and does not held back for anyone. There’s still a chance that the little Hawke will not make it in” he continued, albeit a bit ashamed to be the one to stomp out some of her happiness. He understood why this was important for her, why she felt like she needed to help Carver Hawke, but he also had to think about the good of the people under his command. And, despite the reputation both Hawkes had already acquired in the city, he had to be sure the boy was worth the investment the Guild would make in him.

Telin’s mood had drastically improved with the proposal her boss had just made her, and no possible bad outcome could dampen her enthusiasm. Her head was already spinning, planning as far ahead as it could; she wasn’t sure that Sinead would approve of this move behind her back, but if Telin could have a chance at changing the future, she would take it.

“Thank you, Melchor, I appreciate the chance you’ve given him. And don’t worry, Carver will definitely impress the Commander, he has that broody face that all mercenaries always have!” she joked lightly, feeling like a weight had been pulled off of her shoulders. She was going to provide Carver with the opportunity, the rest was up to his own willpower and strength.

Melchor couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, and his shook his head at her.

“I’m sure our Commander will appreciate the association” he commented, setting his now empty bowl of stew to the side. “I’ll them to expect a new recruit tomorrow, does that work with you?” he asked her as he moved to get up the bench.

Telin nodded as she chewed on the last bits of vegetables left in her own plate. “That’s perfect. I will collect Carver first thing tomorrow morning, then” she agreed, after swallowing her food.

“Make sure he knows what you’re getting him into” Melchor added playfully, throwing a cheeky smile her way. Telin felt her ears warm up behind her now longer hair, and barely managed not to choke on the next mouthful.

“I’ll see you at dinner” she curtly replied, and his laughter was her only reply as the qunari left the room.

 

 

Breaking the news to Carver was probably one of the easiest things she had done since landing in Kirkwall; the younger Hawke, who had seemed skeptical of her proposal at first, was now very eager to prove himself.

Telin relied to him all the directives that Melchor had given her, and extended an invitation to the Guild Hall for the very next morning; he would possibly begin his training with the ‘Wallers with a promising show of force to the Commander – someone she could give no opinion or advice on, since she had never met them, and if they declared Carver worthy of their time, he would be granted access to formal guild training and his period of trial.

The difficult part, they agreed, was going to be telling all that to Sinead. They weren’t sure she would approve, and even though Telin was a friend, or an ally, at best, she was not her whole Guild. But Carver was adamant he didn’t need her approval for anything, so they came to the decision to withhold what was going to happen until it was all done.

The next morning, Telin found herself knocking once again at the Hawke’s door; it was still pretty early, but since she knew for a fact that Sinead was still passed out at the Hanged Man, that was the best window of time they had to act unnoticed.

This time around, it was Leandra that greeted her at her doorstep, a look of both surprise and confusion painted on her still regal features. She blinked a couple of times, assessing the girl for a long couple of seconds before smiling pleasantly.

“Oh, good morning” the woman said, stepping all the way forward from behind the safety of the door.

“Good morning Lady Hawke, I’m sorry to be disturbing you so early. My name is Telin, I’m a friend of your children’s” the girl politely introduced herself, nodding once in respect.

Before if she could inquire if Carver was already awake, Leandra spoke up, telling her that if she was looking for her daughter, she was sad to inform her that Sinead _still_ hadn’t come back home.

“I’m sure she’s fine, but I’m actually here for Carver, if he’s awake” Telin replied, noticing with no small amount of amusement how the woman’s eyes sparkled as she mentioned her son.

It probably wasn’t an everyday thing, to have girls knocking on her door asking for her youngest.

Sure, Telin was definitely armed and armored and quite not a lady, but she doubted it made a difference, judging by Leandra’s expression.

“Oh my, yes, Carver’s up; I’ll send him out right away!” she explained, taking a step back to turn inside the hovel. “Carver, dear, your _lady_ friend is here for you!” she yelled, clearly not interested in being discreet. A couple seconds went by before the sound of cursing and crushing furniture filled the silence of the early morning, and then the man himself appeared at his mother’s side, disheveled and red in the face.

Apparently, awake did not equal ready to go.

“Ah, Telin, it’s you” he awkwardly greeted her, offering a nod.

“Don’t sound _too_ disappointed” she snorted, restraining herself from laughing when a blush bloomed all over his face. “Now c’mon, get your things, we need to head out” she hurried him, no hint of teasing in her voice.

“Oh, so this was a work call, after all?” Leandra piped up, looking the more disappointed between the two of them.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am” Telin offered with an apologetic smile despite not really having anything to be sorry about. “But I do have business with your son, if he’s quite ready to head out?” she continued, clearly urging the boy to get a move on. Melchor wasn’t really known for his patience, and she didn’t really want to blow the chance she’d been given.

Carver seemed to sober up from his grogginess at her words, dipping his head before disappearing back into the house, only to re-emerge at the door a couple minutes later with his armour on and sword strapped to his back.

“I’m ready” he announced, side-stepping his mother to get out the door.

Leandra urged him to be careful and not get hurt, and to go home in one piece when he was done, and then sent them on their way.

The day was almost already in full swing in Lowtown, where the poor people didn’t really have the privilege to sleep in as the nobles did, but the same couldn’t be said for Hightown, where the merchants were just starting to set up their shops in the Market Square.

They walked quietly all the way to the Mansion, Telin enjoying the morning sun bathing her skin while her heart pounded in her chest. She was nervous, but Carver was clearly even more so.

“I won’t tell lie to you, this is probably gonna be tough. I hope you’re ready” she said, breaking the silence between them, hoping that her chatter would help him work through his anticipation.

“As I’ll ever be” he shrugged, taking a deep breath, “This is now or never” he went on, his features hardening with resolution. Telin smiled up at him, happy to see the determination settling on his face; he was going to need all of it if he truly wanted to change his future.

“Good man” she patted him on the arm briefly before they resumed their silence, this time both a little more comfortable.

By the time they made it to the Guild Hall, Melchor was already waiting for the them, standing in the middle of the, weirdly, empty room with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Telin noticed he was wearing clothes she had never seen him in before, and her eyes were caught by the golden embroidery of his long vest, which clearly was meant to represent the colors of the Kirkwallers.

“Good, you’re here” he greeted them with a curt nod of his horned head, and immediately Telin noticed how even his hair had been orderly gathered in a low ponytail on the nape of his neck.

“We’re not late, are we?” she asked, even though she knew full well they weren’t; she had stepped out of the house barely after the sun had graced the city.

“No, they are setting up right now. C’mon” he motioned for them to follow him as he turned around and headed for the door. Carver and Telin exchanged a nod before they walked out as well.

Melchor was definitely leading them towards the outer part of the Mansion, where the gardens had long ago been turned in a training area for the members that made out the mercenary part of the Guild. Telin had been put off to know that there were fully operational training facilities within the mansion, especially because Athras had had her working out and training _inside_ the house, running around corridors like a madman. The elf had only given her a malicious grin when she had confronted about it. But what was done was done, and Telin was satisfied to train in the inner courtyard where the shooting range was. The double doors finally opened on the outside, the sun momentarily blinding them as their eyes had already adapted to the dimmer inside of the house. Once her sight was back, Telin noticed a considerable crowd around the yard, some of which were training on their own while others were clearly there for the oncoming test. Standing beside the fighting ring she immediately noticed both Athras and Simmons who, too, were wearing the formal clothes of the guild; if she had to take a wild guess at their presence, she probably would say they were there as her trainers, to flank her in this request she had been so adamant in making to the Boss. It hadn’t gone unmentioned that the result of Carver’s entry test would weight on her own reputation as well; she had been part of the guild for less than a year, had entered under mysterious circumstances and was also _intimate_ with the head of the Guild, not all of the members had a good opinion on her or on her need to really be a part of the Kirkwallers. Telin nodded to her guardians as she reached them, coming to a stop next them.

“So this is the boy your staking your reputation on?” Athras asked, not even bothering to hide the sneer in her voice as she assessed Carver from head to toe. “He looks strong, sure, but we’ll see if he’s ‘Wallers material” she went on with a huff. Carver did seem a little bit put off by her words, but he shook them off quickly; he was used to having his abilities downplayed all the time, one more person saying it out loud wouldn’t really matter.

“Don’t antagonize the boy already, Athras” Simmons jumped in the conversation, chiding his partner, “I’m sure that if Telin put her faith in him, he will not disappoint” he continued, offering a small respectful nod to Carver.

“Enough with the chatter you three, the Commander is here” Melchor cut in, motioning with his head at the figure that was approaching from the barracks at the back of the training yard.

The figure became clear as it stepped closer and in front of the glare of the now fully risen sun, and Telin could not hide the surprise when, instead of the burly and sour man she’d been expected, a woman solemnly stood in front of the group.

She was tall, at least as tall as Aveline, but her build wasn’t as defined; she was leaner, the leather armour wrapping around her body highlighting her toned abdomen and legs. She had a long, blond braid pinned in a circle on her head, and her deep brown eyes were complimented by the golden kaddis that ran in striped from her forehead to her cheeks, much like she had seen Hawke wear on her nose.

 _A Fereldan, then_ , she thought, forcing her mouth not to hang open at the sight of the woman.

“Hey Mel, whose ass do I have to kick again?” the woman asked, her voice rolling out of her throat like gravel as she smirked up at the qunari.

Telin clearly saw Melchor bite the corner of his lip to contain a chuckle before he replied.

“Anais, this is Carver Hawke” he said, swiping his right arm towards the boy. “He wishes to be part of our Guild, and I though him better suited to be a member of _your_ company, if you’ll have him” he went on, urging Carver forward with a nod of his head.

“Uh, another Fereldan” she commented after barely a glance towards him. “Say, boy, are you one of the refugees?” she asked, her hands settling on her hips to give herself an even bigger presence. Not that she needed it, Telin thought, still eying the woman.

“Yes ma’am. I came here with my family right after Ostagar” he replied speaking out for the first time since setting food inside the compound.

Anais’ eyes sharpened at his words; clearly, she’d had some stakes in the battle as well.

“Yeah…” she droned, stretching the word out, “not really sad to have missed that shit show, honestly. Only good thing that came out of it, is that a Cousland’s sitting on the throne now” she went on, huffing out a small laugh. “Were you in the battle, then?”

Carver seemed to flinch at the question.

“Yes” he said, and that simple word seemed enough to fill the silence that followed. Anais nodded sharply, apparently satisfied. Clearly, knowing that he had witnessed and participated in a battle such as Ostagar gave her a little more of an insight on the boy, and maybe even a bit more respect for this youngster that wanted to prove himself; Telin only hoped he would come through.

“Now, are you ready boy? I’m not gonna go easy on you” she finally proclaimed, scrolling her shoulders for a second.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” Carver replied, the slight sadness that had colored his bright blue eyes for a moment gone, replaced with confidence and a little defiance.

“Ah! Good boy, let’s go then” she announced, proceeding to step inside the ring before him.

Telin gave Carver one last pat of encouragement on his back as he passed her, and he reciprocated with a nod as he followed the Commander inside.

It was a matter of seconds before the crowd that had gathered near the ring during their talk started murmuring, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a blade; even Telin’s heart was starting to beat harder in her chest, and she turned to clutch the wooden structure of the ring with both her hands, her fingernails nervously digging in the wood.

Both Anais and Carver drew their weapons, and only then Telin noticed that the woman was uncharacteristically wielding to long swords, one in each hand.

“On my mark!” Melchor shouted next to her, so to be heard over the growing voices. “Begin!” he announced, and as the word left his lips, Anais immediately lunged forward.

Telin couldn’t help it, she closed her eyes as her heart jumped in her throat; fortunately, what came next, was the sound of steel hitting steel: Carver had managed to parry the hit.

She took a deep breath; something told her the match was going to last a while, but she wasn’t sure her nerves could bear the tension.  

**Author's Note:**

> The story is undergoing major corrections and plot changes!  
> Chapter One is completely different, while Chs 2 to 11 have been tweaked!  
> Chapters 12 to 21 will be checked and corrected accordingly in the near future!


End file.
